


Broken Freedom

by AnonymouxSonic



Series: Broken Freedom Trilogy [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed Syndicate - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Assassin's Creed Syndicate, Canon Bisexual Character, F/F, F/M, Gay Sex, Heartwrencing Moments, Jacob Frye/Maxwell Roth - Freeform, Lots of explosions, M/M, Noncanon Bisexual Character, Sibling fight, Smut, Some Fluff, mentions of abuse, you guys are going to hate me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 19:25:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 57,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14087967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymouxSonic/pseuds/AnonymouxSonic
Summary: He's Chaos and A Hero. She's Darkness and A Passion. When their morals are put to the test, Jacob and Evie Frye must learn to understand that everything happens for a reason, no matter how bad it may seem. London must be saved. "Some things are worth more than freedom."





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving in London, the Rooks are grown and led by Jacob Frye, taking over the boroughs run by the Blighters and slowly erasing the Templars from the streets. He should have expected his actions would attract gang leader Maxwell Roth.

**Broken Freedom**

**Prologue –**

_The churning seas of London…_

"It's just the way father described…"

Breathtaking, really. Never had the twins seen so many people all hurdled together at once; so many faces, colors, sizes, shapes…it was terrifying yet thrilling at the same time. The only problem was, with so many people they were bound to attract attention to not only themselves but their cause. They needed to remain discreet if they were going to not only take down Starrick, but find the Piece of Eden as well.

"Now, to find Henry Green," Evie Frye snaps herself out of her trance, turning to glance at her brother, who was marveling at the sight of so many people, "and formulate a plan of attack against the Templars."

"Who is Mr. Green again?" Jacob Frye asks, not paying too much attention anyway. There was just…so much. So much opportunity in this vast city. It was almost overwhelming…

His sister turns and gives him a slightly surprised look. "The Assassin watching over London? Did you not listen the first  _three_  times?"

He can't help but grin at her annoyance. Turning to face her, he holds out his arms, chuckling as he spoke. "Listen to what?"

Before she can scold him, he's being pushed forward suddenly, by a small child getting too close for comfort. He turns and watches the kid put something quickly into his pocket, holding up his hands innocently. "Oi! Watch it!" the Assassin exclaims.

The kid gives him a weak smile, quickly turning on his heels. "Beg pardon, sir!"

Feeling for the wallet  _where it should be_ in the pocket on the side of his jacket, Jacob's eyes narrow. "Oi! Come back here you filthy dipper!"

He takes off after the kid, ignoring Evie's call as he breaks through a crowd of people. A few of them called out as he pushed passed them, quickly apologizing as someone drops a large basket of fruit all over the sidewalk, and as he knocks someone sitting on a fence over it. He watches the kid run under an arch of a building, following closely behind, and  _how could a damn kid run this fast?!_

The kid seemed to have a plan, however, and much to Jacob's irritation, he found himself running head first into a group of red suited men, who immediantly turned and sneered at him. The kid ran down another alley, and with a huff of air, Jacob lets him go.

"Fine you little mobsman…keep it."

One of the men dressed in red spoke up in a gruff voice. "Well, well, what do we have here?" They looked like the guards Ferris had surrounded himself with back at Crawley, Jacob noticed. Were they part of some kind of gang?

"You're on our property," the other grins sadistically, the glint of a blade catching the Assassin's eye.

Jacob grinned. "Well, what are you going to do about it, then?"

They didn't answer with words, but with a swing of fists and blades. Dodging the first one, the young male grins and ducks down, grabbing the arm now flying over him, before standing up quickly and snapping the bones like twigs. He then swings his victim into the guy with the knife, causing him to accidently get stabbed instead. Blade-Man backs off, his eyes widening in shock, before he scoffs in a growl and pulls out his gun, aiming right for Jacob's head.

The loud pop and bang of the weapon echoed against the alley walls, but much to the man's dismay, Jacob had effortlessly dodged his weak attempt and took a quick step towards him, snatching the arm with the gun in hand, throwing the deadly object aside. Still holding the guys arm, he pulls him towards him, spinning him around, before grabbing either side of his head a finishing with a clean snap.

Satisfied with his work, Jacob grins and steps back. Laughing he turns just in time to see his sister enter the alley with a disapproving frown.

"Ha! Excellent. What else does London have to offer?"

He didn't notice the girl in red stagger back with wide eyes, which darted between the man who just slaughtered her comrades with the purest of ease, to the woman dressed in black the same height as him, the well-known symbol of the Assassin's embedded on her jacket.

She turns and runs, out of the alley, out onto the street where a group of red dressed members of her gang sat around a carriage. "We need to report to Roth," she exclaims, panting breathlessly. One of the larger blokes turns and gives her a questioning raise of his brow.

"What now?"

She turns and points to the alley. "There's Assassins. Two of 'em. One of them just took out James and William!"

Their eyes widen at this news. If the Assassins were here, then…

"Let's go, then," one of the gang members spoke out, jumping up to grab the reigns of the carriage. "Roth will want to know if there's trouble."

"Shouldn't we tell Kaylock?" One of them asks as they start moving.

The girl nods. "I'll go."

She leaves the carriage behind and begins to head out, but then catches sight of someone running across the rooftops…wasn't that Henry Green?

Too many things of interest were happening at too fast a pace. She could bet all her money that those two Assassins were meeting up with Green to discuss the First Civilization Artifact Kaylock was interested in. Or rather the artifact Starrick wanted Kaylock to look into. She honestly didn't care what they were after, as long as she could live and get paid.

She starts running through the streets, looking for her gang members and asking around for Kaylock. Running to a group on the corner, she asks if they know, and they report that he's not too far off…

Then the three Assassins run right by them, on the opposite side of the street. Their eyes meet, before the one, Henry Green, hands something to the two and takes off. The male Assassin turns and waves at them, before he and the girl jump in a carriage and start shooting in the air in challenge.

"Go tell Kaylock!" one of the gang members tells her, and she nods, quickly turning about face and running as fast as she could go.

She didn't get far before she was grabbed by Mr. Green himself, assassinated and left behind in the alley she mistakenly turned down.

* * *

London was known to many as a place where you can be free, do as you wish and not have to worry about how you look, sound, or behave…at least, to the more rowdy boroughs. No matter where you went, you saw children working and playing, men clanking large mugs of beer together, fight clubs carrying out into the streets, gangs of red and green fighting and then running from the police. You had to carry a gun on you at all times, and keep your wallet hidden from thieving hands. A drunk man can be found falling out of a tree, while a lady born in royalty steals a train and all the money on it.

London was the heart of the world, the center of the party. It was alive and bustling, exciting yet dangerous.

It was the perfect place for Jacob Frye.

The air splitting, popping sounds of a gun are echoed off of the alley walls. The weapon smoked as he held it in the air, waving his arm with a lopsided grin and a determined glare in his eyes.

"This borough belongs to us!"

The agreeing shouting and cheering behind him carried him like a tidal wave. His gang ran passed him, charging head on with the reds that were now second guessing themselves. Some of the cowards ran away.

With a sharp slice of his cane, he unsheathes the blade and swings it just in time to close-line the brave Blighter running towards him. His other arm flicked its wrist as the hidden blade on his gauntlet sliced through the head of the red on his left. Faster than anyone could see, the blade retracts and out is that gun again, nailing the idiot straight in front of him who thought it would be a good idea to look death in the eyes, right in the head. Cheering all around him brought another grin to his lips. He waves his arm backwards this time, signalling for his Rooks to take a step back. They knew better than to take on the gang leader of red and black, Templar pendant swinging from her neck.

Only Jacob was allowed that kind of pleasure.

A swipe of his nose, tip of his hat, and devilish grin was all the Blighter got before she's stabbed, sliced, head-butted and beaten into a pulp on the ground, groaning her final breath. The young Assassin responsible for her death, steps back, holding his cane up in the air, the blood slick as it dripped from it, shining in the twilight, his voice loud and clear.

"Ladies and gentlemen! We are Jacob and Evie Frye, and as of this moment, you all…"

Everyone screams and cheers, and the remaining Blighters had no choice but to take the red hats off.

"work for  _us!"_

* * *

' _A letter…for me?'_

He turns the paper around in his hands, the only thing written on the bright white envelop being of his name, scrawled in perfect cursive, inked in a dark red that could be mistaken as blood. No seal, no return address, no name of whom it was from. The letter in question had been dropped off that morning at the Whitechapel station, where they picked up their supplies and took care of their train, right as they came to a stop. The Rook leader had awoken with a start when Agnes dropped the paper on his face, saying it was given to her by an odd man that acted almost like a machine. He had no emotion, spoke quietly yet clearly, and walked in a stiff manner. She said he was the strangest thing she had ever seen.

"What's that?" the sudden voice of his sister catches him off guard, and he turns to give his nosey twin a small glare. He's startled when he takes in her appearance; her hair slightly out of place, a very red marking around either side of her neck, a few tears in her clothes and some cuts and bruises here and there.

"You look bloody awful!" he exclaims, not able to stop the grin that brings his lips up in amusement. Her eyes widen and she looks down at herself, as if just realizing her current predicament.

What happens is a bloom of red across her cheeks, and the normally formal Assassin holds a hand up to her head in embarrassment. "I…got into a bit of a fight with Lucy Thorne."

He frowns now, giving her a skeptical look. "I thought you were only going to The Monument? Where did you run into her?"

Evie seems to sound somewhat proud as she speaks. "St. Paul's Cathedral," she explains. "That's where the clues pointed to. There was a room hidden at the top holding the key to the Shroud."

The letter was forgotten in his hands as he turns to fully face her now. "Oh? And what of the key, then?"

Now she seemed embarrassed again, looking away from her younger brother. "Ms. Thorne followed me up there. We got into a fight, and she took the key."

Oh, this was golden. Jacob can't help but grin at her, feeling a bit smug that his 'perfect' sister failed her mission. "And she got away, I presume?"

The girl turns and glares at him. "She threw herself out of the window. I could have let her kill me on the glass, or let her go." When his grin doesn't falter, her eyes narrow. "I'm going to get it back."

He holds up his hands innocently, tearing the envelope open with his hidden blade. "Of course you are," he chuckles.

She scowls at him, but watches with curiousity as he unfolds the paper, his brows furrowing slightly as his hazel green eyes scan the words. He seems to read it once, then twice, before finally answering her unspoken question. "A dinner invitation."

Her frown only deepens. "And with whom are you dining this evening?"

He hesitates for a moment, as if debating on whether or not to tell her. A prying glare from her convinces him to do so. "Maxwell Roth."

Her eyes widen. "The leader of the Blighters?" At his nod, she frowns. "You're not going."

He shrugs, folding the paper into a small square, placing it inside one of the pockets of his jacket. "Of course not."

She can't tell if he's serious, and she doesn't have time to ponder it, when Agnes comes up to her, wanting to talk. "You have a minute? I need a wee bit of advice."

Giving her brother one last warning look, Evie turns and follows the plump woman into the next train car.

Looking towards the wall where Henry had set up their Templar targets, his eyes fall on the sketched picture of Maxwell Roth himself. It was odd how the Blighter leader was approaching him, he felt. Obviously a trap, he knew for sure, but still odd. He knew he would attract the man's attention eventually, although he was more concerned with harming Starrick than anyone. So far, the Rooks had succeeded in taking over not only Whitechapel, but Lambeth, the Thames, and half of Southwark was soon to follow. It's all he had been doing since arriving in London; taking over the boroughs and rallying up the Rooks. He's turned the Blighter's strongholds into safe havens for his own gang, and Clara's children. Templar targets throughout the streets were disappearing one by one, and quickly at that. Children were being freed from the torment of their forced labor, given well paying jobs from the Rooks and training as wonderful spies. Cargo shipments across London are actually making it to their destinations, pleasing Ned Wynert and making the Rook leader stupid rich with income. Using the money to set up warehouses for his gang, collect weapons and supplies, give as many of them homes as possible, Jacob was succeeding in flipping everything Starrick had done, around.

He had never felt so good about anything in his life. After he took over Southwark, he planned on taking the City of London, killing as many Templars along the way as he could.

…and the Blighters? Many of them had already left the Templars and Starrick to join the Rooks, tired of the way their lives were ran, looking for something better and a good future. Less and less red was showing up on the streets, and green was flooding it like the churning tides of the Thames.

No, it didn't surprise Jacob at all that  _Maxwell Roth_ would be interested in him. He wanted to meet the man that was causing his gang so much trouble.

An obvious trap, but…

He looks over as he watches Evie pull her hood up, ready to go out on a mission. He would never hear the end of it if he accepted this invitation, and it would most likely lead to another argument.

Making a final decision, he turns and heads to the back of the train, jumping out and diving over the bridge they were on.

_Jacob Frye,_

_I have heard and seen of your efforts throughout great London, and I must admit I'm impressed with all you have done. It would honor me greatly if you were to join me for dinner. I have a business proposition I feel you may be interested in. You may find me in the Alhambra Music Hall located in the Strand. I look forward to your visit._

_Deepest Regards,_

_Maxwell Roth_

…and to the Strand, he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First story for this website. I'm seeing how well it does.


	2. Chapter One - Murderous Duet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are those that work for the devil, and those that dance with him."

**Chapter One – Murderous Duet**

Evie looks up at the sound of footsteps heading through the train car, frowning slightly at her brother as he stopped to look at her. She sat on her little green chair, one leg crossed over the other, a book in her lap. He raises a brow back at her, before shaking his head and turning to sit on the bed across from her. She watches him take off his hat and run a hand through his dark brown, almost black hair, before wiping that hand down his face. He lays back then, putting the hat over his eyes and resting his hands over his chest.

"And where have you been?" she can't help but ask.

No movement from him except the shape of his lips as he spoke. "Taking the boroughs back from the Blighters. Fifty-percent of London now belongs to the Rooks."

There was a bit of cockiness lingering on his words, and he had every right to sound that way. After all, it was Evie that claimed the Rooks would be ridiculous, and that the plan was foolish. Then again, everything Jacob came up with was always foolish, he thinks.

She frowns, studying him carefully. He seemed exhausted, which didn't surprise her. She hardly ever saw him in the train anymore. He was always out doing something, whether it be taking down the Blighters, or getting himself into trouble.

The thing that bothered her the most, was how and where he was getting his leads from. Ever since they took over Whitechapel, Lambeth, and the Thames from their enemies, Jacob had been running off into missions that seemed too deep, too complex for someone like him. First, there was the explosion of Starrick's Soothing Syrup, as well as the assassination of Dr. John Elliotson in the Lambeth Asylum. Jacob didn't talk much about it, but from what she knew, Charles Darwin was quite shocked. He said he was going to investigate it himself, but Jacob beat him to the punch.

Then, there was the sudden assassination of Pearl Attaway, who owned her own omnibus and transportation company, and, surprise, was the cousin of Starrick himself. How Jacob had learned about her was beyond Evie, and even Henry said he was surprised.

" _I wasn't going to get involved with her anytime soon,"_  the Indian Assassin had said.

Now she watched her brother with suspicion and concern. "Any targets in mind?" she asks, hoping to pry some kind of information out of him.

He shrugs, not moving to look at her. "Not that I know of yet. I plan on taking Westminster next, however."

She raises a brow at this statement. "Not the Strand? Wouldn't that be more wise?"

He was quiet for a moment of hesitance, before he spoke up a bit quietly. "There's too many Blighters in there. The Rooks need time to grow before I take them there. I don't want to lose any more of them."

He sounded hurt, and she could understand. He was very protective of his gang members. She often caught him laughing and drinking with them, if he wasn't sitting down, going over their money and what would go to what. She had to admit she was impressed with it. He was indeed a very fine leader. He may be reckless with his own personal missions, but when it came to his gang,  _his_   _Rooks_ , the line was drawn. He was always supplying them with money, food, shelter, weapons, carriages, supplies, and more. At least seventy-percent of their money went into the gang, and he was very stingy about it. Yes, he was very good at this, and she had to admit she was proud of him to a certain extent. It didn't cover up the chaos he caused in the meantime, or the attention he was bringing on them from men like Starrick and Roth, but she could give him this praise, just this once.

"I suppose that makes sense," she decides to comment. "I take it Westminster isn't as bad?"

He shrugs. "Not entirely, no. There's more Templars there than anything. The Strand is overpopulated by Blighters." Now, he lifted a hand up to his hat, grabbing it as he sat up, meeting her eyes. "Don't go there unless you absolutely have to," he sounded stern now, almost exactly like their father. A rare moment from egotistical and careless Jacob Frye. "The Rooks that are there need to stay out of sight, and I seriously  _cannot_ lose anymore of them, and as capable as I know you are," he leads, and she raises a brow, "I don't want to risk the Blighters coming after you."

Again, it was rare Jacob talked like this. He only ever acted this way when the danger was real and eminent, and involved his sister. They may fight and quarrel, but they were still very protective of one another. His words warmed her heart some, and she smiles.

"As long as you don't get yourself into anymore trouble," she chides lightly. "You caused quite the chaos in London's transportation system."

He shrugs again. "There would have been problems anyway. I did what I had to, and left it at that."

She feels irritation boil in her stomach. So much for the warm feelings. "And I had to pick up the pieces, Jacob. You have to plan things out more carefully, and think about the outcome of the results." She kept her words soft but firm. Not to cause an argument, but to give real and sincere advice. This was the nicest conversation they've had since being here. She couldn't ruin it.

He grumbles something under his breath, before turning to lay on his side away from her, his hat falling beside him on the pillows.

The conversation was over. He wanted nothing to do with her at the moment, and she feared if she continued to press, they would just get into another argument.

That's all they've been doing since arriving here. Fighting.

She sighs and looks down at the book in her lap, only hoping he took her words into consideration.

She tried to ignore the doubt growing ever so slightly in her chest.

* * *

The sound of heavy boots treading across the hardwood floor were drowned out by the music of a piano echoing throughout the large theatre. Small puddles of water followed those footsteps, dripping from his coat and shaken out from his top hat. He runs his gloved fingers through his hair before he puts the cap back on, walking to the center of the stage where his rival and…partner…was seated on the bench behind the large musical instrument.

The melody was light and happy, perfect for a dance for a young, naïve couple untainted by the horrors of the world. It was odd to hear from the man playing it, but it was something he has gotten used to since his time spent with Maxwell Roth.

Stepping up beside the piano, he catches the attention of the older man, who immediantly stops and grins brightly. "Ah, Jacob darling! What have I done, to deserve such a wonderful surprise?"

Roth was always excited to see him, perhaps even a bit too much. His pet names and compliments always caught the Assassin off guard, making him feel a modesty he wasn't familiar with.

"You said you had news for me?" Jacob answers with his own question. "Did you forget?"

Roth chuckles lightly, noticing how the other brushed off his compliment with business, as usual. "Of course not, my dear. Come, follow me!" he motions for the Assassin to do so, and Jacob does, like a loyal dog, eager for whatever the maniac he had grown a fondness for had in store for them.

The leader of the Blighters grabs a bottle of wine sitting on a podium nearby, grabbing two mugs off a wooden shelf right next to it. He puts the glasses down on the round, polished wooden table backstage, pouring a hefty amount of the alcoholic beverage into it with no shame and all game. He hands one to the Rook leader as he joins him, speaking like the theatric he was.

"You know the name Philip Twopenny?" he begins, watching Jacob take a quick gulp of his drink before giving him a startled look.

"The Governor of the Bank of England?" he questions. Roth grins.

"The Governor and a Templar, my dear," the man continues, happy with the spark in the Assassin's eyes at the revelation.

"Really, now?" Jacob drawls, putting his empty mug down. "I suppose that's how Starrick's been growing his pockets?"

The suited man grins and pours more liquid into his guest's glass. "Precisely, my dear. It's rather easy to steal from a bank when you practically own it." He puts the wine bottle down and motions for Jacob to sit. He does, as the man continues. "In just a week or so he plans on emptying as much as possible. A full ol' fashioned robbery."

Jacob could take a hint, and he can't help but smirk at the words between the lines. "It'd be just a shame if something were to go wrong, then?"

Roth laughs that deep, growly laugh of his. "Very much so, darling, and I happen to have just the something for us!"

Suddenly full of energy, he motions for Jacob to up and follow. " _Lewis!"_  he yells, grabbing Jacob by the arm, much to the Assassin's surprise, and pulling him towards the back entrance of the theatre. Hooking their elbow's together, he swings the door out and open, dragging his partner in crime along with him.

The Assassin can't help but feel a bit surprised. Roth was just so energetic, so friendly with him. He lets the man guide him to the carraige, stumbling passed Lewis himself and being forced into the driver's seat.

"You know the gist, you drive," Maxwell encouraged.

That was usually how it worked. Jacob would drive, Roth would navigate him with suspense all the way to their destination. The older man seemed to like teasing the younger, not telling him his plans until the last second, making Jacob wait in eagerness to know what was in store for him. It riled him up, and Roth knew and loved it.

"Where are we going?" was a common question Jacob found himself asking more than often. Roth grins, motioning him to work the horses forward.

"Every time the bank is robbed," the man begins slowly, to draw out the impatience in his dear Assassin, "they are supplied with all the weapons, ammo, escape routes, and everything they can possibly need by a certain group run by Templars."

"And who might that be?"

Holding his arms up as if he were on stage, Maxwell makes the big reveal: "Cockham Merchants, my dear. We, are on our way to their warehouse."

Jacob raises a brow, grinning, leading the horses to the left where Roth pointed. "So your plan is to sabatoge their supplies?"

The man laughs. "Don't let me ruin the surprise for you, Jacob darling."

Knowing Roth, they were probably going to blow something up.

They make their way to the docks, where a curious amount of Templars ran in and out a nearby warehouse. There were Blighters as well, some on guard duty, others carrying heavy looking boxes to carriages outside the building. Some of them headed to the docks, carrying the crates from the boat nearby, setting them up and dusting their hands off.

Pulling the carraige off to the side of the road, the pair of gang leaders quickly creep over to a nearby building, climbing up the side of it to get a better view of the area. From here, Jacob could catch sight of a few cops nearby, as well as a small group of Rooks on the sidewalk beside the fence that marked the perimeter of the building.

"I have some of my loyal men down there waiting for my orders," Roth points to a select few. "Gather up yours if you wish. We're going to make a distraction so we can get inside the warehouse."

Jacob turns to look at him. "What distraction do you have in mind?"

Roth gestures to the boat at the docks. "That vessel there is carrying most of the weapons and gear they'll be using at the bank." He gives Jacob a knowing grin. "Ever set a boat on fire?"

The Assassin can't help but grin back. "No, but I've never had a problem trying new things."

"Excellent," Roth claps his gloved hands together. "The moment it goes up in flames, they'll all go running to it. The moment they do, you would have to sneak in the factory and plant the dynamite my men snuck in. Once your done, give them the okay, and get out of there as quickly as possible."

Jacob nods, feeling confident about this one. "Sounds easy enough. I'll send my gang to distract the guards so I can get to the boat."

"Perfect, then," Roth pats the Assassin on the back, startling him a bit. "Just make sure you're out of there before it explodes."

There was the hint of concern along the joking lines, and it was at that moment that Jacob realized Roth didn't want anything to happen to him. Although he still suspected the man to stab him in the back at any moment, he was finding himself relaxing the more time he spent with him. Roth was always warning him to be careful before he sent him on his way. At first he just brushed it off as the Blighter being a sarcastic sod, but then he started to hear the genuine care underlining his words.

He just didn't know what to think of the man at this point.

"I'll be fine," he answers with a smirk, pulling his hat off and collapsing it in his hands. He tucks it in a pocket on the inside of his coat, before pulling his hood up, hiding most of his face from the world. He doesn't look back before he leaps off the building, landing face up in a large pile of leaves below. Jumping out to dust himself off, he strides over to the Rooks who now had their attention on him.

"You lads looking for something to do?" he asks, and they smirk at him in return.

* * *

She was supposed to be headed to The Strand to find Nigel, who had gotten himself into trouble, again, however…

Her mind was distracted, taking her along the streets of the Blighter filled borough, slowly along with the hard shower of rain. She didn't mind the water, she was used to it by now, and as the wind whipped at her cape and threatened to break apart her braided hair, she continued to walk calmly, listening to the soft taps of her heels on the cracked cement below her.

A few people ran passed her in a hurry, not wanting to be soaked by the time they got to their destination. A group of Rooks sat under an arch of a building, nodding to her as she headed by. A quick ''ello,' 'stay safe, Miss Frye,' and 'how's your brother?' was discussed quickly before she continued to make her way passed a large theatre and through Leicester Square.

She can't help but think about her brother in worry. Something told her he was out there, getting into trouble. She just wished he wasn't so reckless.

Taking a shortcut through a nearby alley, her ears catch hold of the sound of a crying child, and following it, she finds a small boy, probably eight or nine years old, hiding in a corner of two meeting buildings. Her eyes widen at the sight of him curled up, being poured on relentlessly by the never ending rain, shivering and shaking; the tears that streaked his face blending with the drops of rain covering him.

As she knelt down in front of him, he flinches and looks up quickly, and suddenly her heart breaks. The boy has a cut from his left cheek to his chin, and one across his right eye and brow. They're deep gashes, ones definitely made from a blade. His eyes have black circles underneath them, a good bruise on his left cheek, and a split, bleeding lip.

This boy was beaten, and it killed her.

"Hey, it's alright," she says softly, slowly reaching for him as he tries to scoot away from her. "What happened to you?" she has to know. She'll kill whoever did this to him.

The boy's voice was raspy and weak, and she could hardly hear it over the pounding of rain on the rooftops above them. "A f-f-fight, m-m-m-miss…" he stammers.

"With whom?" she pries, needing to know. She would send this boy to Clara, and then find his attacker and end their insufferable life.

"Mmm.." he starts weakly, obviously terrified. "M-M-My f-f-father…miss…"

Her eyes widen in shock. What kind of parent would do this to their own…?

The boy actually continues, his words a bit more clear as it all just tumbled out at once, overflowing with pain. "I-I-I w-w-was f-fighting m-my s—sister, and...and he…wasn't happy w-with m-me."

Something was wrong here. Very wrong. Something about what he was saying was twisting her stomach up with…guilt? She couldn't describe the feeling. She took a closer look at his face and saw familiarity in his hazel green eyes.

"Why…" she starts slowly, feeling suddenly very light headed, sick. "Why were you fighting your sister?"

He looks down, his bottom lip quivering as he started crying again.

"I…I…I-I t-told her m-m-my s-secret-t and s-she d-didn't unders-stand…"

Reaching for the boy, she puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to look at her. "What is your name?" she questions. "I want to help you."

He slowly looks up, and…stops crying. His eyes narrow at her, and slaps her hand away quickly. She jumps back in shock, her eyes widening. When the boy spoke next, his voice was clear and his tone dark, very dark.

"You should have helped me when you had the chance."

Thunder boomed and when the lightening passed the boy was gone, and so was the alley she was in. She was facing a building, but when she turned around she was greeted by darkness, pitch black. Something small on the ground hopped out of the dark, and to her surprise it was a bird. A crow, to be exact. It looked at her, cocking its head and cawing almost angrily.

Then it suddenly lurched at her.

She gasps and stumbles back, but before the bird can make contact with her, it screeches and bursts into flames, falling onto the ground, screaming and jumping around. It flaps its wings furiously, but the flames are relentless, eating at the crow until it's nothing but ashes.

Her heart was pounding, her breath coming in short gasps. She whips around on her heels, looking all around her. Nothing. It was all dark, the rain even gone now, too. She turns back to face the ashes of the bird to find them gone, the only thing left behind being a red petal from a rose.

She stared at it, her eyes wide in confusion.

* * *

The girl sat up with a gasp, her pupils dilated as she tried to process her surroundings.

It…was a dream?

More like a nightmare, she concluded as she took in the train car she rode in. She was sitting up on the bed, feeling a soreness in her body spread like a wildfire.

Then she remembered…

After she had found Nigel and helped clear his name, she went her own way, keeping an eye out for Lucy Thorne and Jacob. She had found herself heading back through Leicester Square when a group of Blighters standing outside the Alhambra noticed her and flocked to her. She gave them a warning glare, but they continued to follow and pester her.

"We should take her inside for a show," they teased, gesturing to the theatre. The Alhambra… Odd how there were so many of them around the place. After turning the corner around the theatre and heading down the street, she was surrounded. The people on the streets seemed to noticed the heavy amount of gang members in red, and ran off, leaving her obviously stranded in the middle. It was apparent that a fight could no longer be avoided. She could practically hear Jacob cursing at her in the back of her head, his warning replaying itself over and over again, right before the fight took off. A small handle of Rooks got involved, but the fight was messy. It carried out into the street, moving down the road as the Rooks tried to help their leader's sister get away. It all proved undoing in the end, when the members of green had fallen. Evie had never fought so hard and fast in her life. They just kept  _coming_ , and she just kept  _killing._

The police showed up, and that was a mistake, too.

By the time the last few members of Blighters were left, and many bodies of red, green, and blue scattered around the street, Evie felt her adrenaline run low. She had collapsed and was nearly unconscious when she heard the shouting.

" _You fools! Get away from her!"_ the voice was loud, harsh, and gravely.

There was more yelling, but she couldn't make out any of it. She felt someone kneel beside her and curse under his breath. "Goddammit you," he scolded her. "I'd nearly give up everything I've worked so hard for to gut you right now." He was sneering. She still had no idea who he was, couldn't see. Suddenly she's being lifted up and carried, and she tries in vain to open her eyes. To focus.

"You stay away from my theatre," she's being threatened.  _"I can't lose him now, dammit."_

She's carried for a while, before being sat on…a chair? She hears the sound of a door shutting, feels the lurch of a carraige, hearing the orders of the mysterious man that saved her and wanted to kill her at the same time. "Take her to Whitechapel, to that Indian prick's shop. Don't been seen. I will rip your head from your bloody body if you're seen, do you hear me?"

Someone says, "Yessir," in a weak and nervous voice, and then another harsh lurch of the carraige startles her once again. She blacked out soon after.

She woke up with Henry shaking her, asking her what happened. Then she blacked out again as he took care of her wounds and brought her to the train. He had no idea how she got to his shop, and she certainly didn't understand it.

"Are you alright?" came the gentle, soft-spoken voice of Henry Green, jolting her out of her thoughts as he walked up to the bed, holding out a glass of water for her.

Taking the cup, she nods and drinks it, before playing with it in her hands. "Yes, I'm fine."

He sits beside her on the bed, his brown eyes overflowing with worry. She finishes the water, handing him the glass as he offers to take it. "Thank you," she says quietly.

"What happened?" he has to ask, has to know. When he found her in his shop's entrance he had panicked, thinking her to be dead. She looked terrible now, and it broke his heart to see her this way. Powerful Evie Frye, the best of her beaten.

She closes her eyes, rubbing her temples as she skimmed through the memories. "I helped Nigel," she reencounters, "then explored Westminster and The Strand. I was hoping to run into Jacob, or even catch word of Miss Thorne's location, but…" she takes in a deep breath. "On my way back to Whitechapel, I ran into a large group of Blighters in Leicester Square. There were so many of them, Henry," she sounded so exhausted, so drained. "They have to be taking refuge inside the Alhambra."

Henry's eyes widen. "What happened?"

She meets his eyes, her brows furrowing. "We fought. There were…oh god…" she closes her eyes. "There were Rooks there, Henry. They tried to help me but they were killed. Mr. Abberline's men showed up to help as well, but most of them were killed, too." She pauses, taking in a deep breath. "I shouldn't have been there… Jacob warned me and I didn't think…"

For once, she was the one in the wrong. So much guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders. Rooks had died. Policemen had died. She was injured.

Jacob was going to be furious.

At least no one got  _hurt_ or  _died_ when Jacob set out on is missions. He took the Creed's number one rule to heart, 'Only kill those that deserve it, and protect the ones that need it,' and always followed through with it. Sure, he nearly cost London its buses, or the hospitals their tonics, but he did whatever he could to make up for it, and he'd give his life for the innocents around him.

' _I seriously cannot lose any more of them,'_ his words replayed again in her ears.

How many Rooks had she just lost? At least six of them… Six lives lost. Six memorials Jacob would have to arrange. Six different families he would have to write letters to. Six more names to be hung on the wall. Six lives given to protect London, to protect  _her._

"It isn't your fault, Evie," Henry says softly. "You never asked for that to happen."

She shakes her head, putting her face in her hands. "He told me not to go there, exactly for this reason. I can't believe I didn't listen… What was I thinking?"

She wasn't used to this. She couldn't process this. Jacob was the one that never listened, not her. She was always the good one, the one that always had to save her  _brother_ , scold  _him_  for  _his_  actions, fix  _his_  mistakes.

"Evie," Henry pries, reaching forward to take her hand in his own. She looks up at him, meeting his gaze and studying his face carefully. So much care, so much kindness, so handsome—

"Listen to me," he orders gently. "Mistakes happen. This isn't the first time Rooks have lost their lives to our cause. Jacob understands that, and they understood that when they stuck up for you. We're all making risks, doing what we do, and we have to come to terms with that, as sad as it may be. I'm sure your brother will be grateful you are alive, and will understand what has happened."

She tried not to think too hard on his words, and just focus on the surface of them. Tried to tell herself that he was right, that it wasn't her fault, but…she still felt guilty.

She looks down, feeling an odd sense of somber Frye-humor hit her then. "I suppose he and I are even now," she murmurs quietly. Henry chuckles dryly, trying to lighten the air up a bit.

"Then you two can hopefully mend your relationship," he suggests.

The sound of quick and heavy footfalls brings the two's attention to two Rooks and—

"Mr. Wynert?" Evie exclaims in sudden surprise. The American looked as if he had ran all the way from the Atlantic.

"Miss Frye, by the gods…" Ned took in a deep breath, as well as the two green gang members behind him.

"Did something happen?" Henry asks, the conversation with Evie having to wait for later.

They watch Wynert take a moment to collect himself, before he points outside. "Cockham Merchants just went up in flames," he explains, his voice a bit breathy. "Apparently a huge fight broke out between everyone. Blighters, Rooks, Templars, Police…"

Evie and Henry gape in shock as Ned continues.

"The funny part about it," he dusts himself off, "is that the Blighters and Rooks were actually working together. The police got involved on their own."

"Are you sure they didn't just join our side?" Evie questions. "They've done this before."

Wynert shakes his head. "I'm not sure what exactly went on. I just happened to be working with these two," he points a thumb behind him to the Rooks, "when it happened. I'm guessing Mr. Frye had something to do with it?"

Evie can't help but sigh. "It is possible. Where exactly did this happen?"

One of the Rooks holds up a hand. "I'll take ya."

Ned seems to realize Evie's condition, then. "Jesus, Frye, what happened to you?"

She feels the bitterness in her throat somewhat expressed in her tone. "A similar event with myself in The Strand. A fight, a large one."

The Rooks' eyes widen and Wynert stares blankly. "And what? What's the damage?"

Evie looks down, and Henry gives the American a soft, warning look. "We can discuss it later. I'll go with you, for now." Evie looks up at him in surprise as he stands and puts a hand on her shoulder. "Rest easy. I will be back shortly."

She wanted to protest, but she wasn't in any condition to argue, or go for that matter.

She watches the group leave the train, feeling pathetic in too many ways to describe.

* * *

By the time Ned and Henry arrived at the docks where the fight had broken out, most of the area was a complete disaster. The police had it blocked off; a large group of people wanting to know what happened clustered outside in large herds. From where they sat perched on the rooftop of a building across the lot, they could see the destruction for themselves. The warehouse was almost non-existent, burned to the ground. There was a half a boat sticking straight up out of the Thames, the bottom completely submerged under water. The bodies of multiple Templars lay scattered around the place, being covered by sheets by the confused coppers.

Henry can only gape. "What started all of this?"

Wynert shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "Beats me. On the bright side, I don't see any Rooks down there."

"No Blighters, either," the Assassin observes. "They were only after the Templars."

Ned nods, watching a police carraige pull up. He recognized Sergeant Abberline immediantly. "It looks like it. Wonder what they were trying to achieve? I thought Starrick controls the Blighters?"

Henry frowns, watching Abberline walk through the crowd, demanding answers. "Not entirely. His gang leaders are Templars, working for him, but they themselves are underneath Maxwell Roth. He's the one that controls the Blighters."

The smaller man frowns, putting a hand on his hip. "I didn't know Roth was a Templar."

Henry raises a brow. "You know of him?"

"Hell, I wish I didn't," Ned turns to look at him. "I ran into him a few times so many years back, when I first started my business. Worked with him once, even. There was a shipment we were both after, things on it that we both needed. We compromised and raided it, splitting the difference fifty-fifty. The whole thing was a pain in the ass. He doesn't like me, and I don't like him."

Green turns his attention down below. Abberline wasn't getting any of the answers he was pressing for. "I don't know too much about him, other than the fact that many people fear him."

"Probably because he's insane," Ned shrugs. "The guy likes chaos." He pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of the wreckage before him. "You don't think by some chance he had something to do with this? I mean, the Blighters and Rooks seemed to be working together."

Henry frowns. "I don't know. I will talk with Abberline to see what he can discover. Just a precaution; stay low for a few days."

Wynert lets out a defeated sigh. "Yeah, I kind of figured you would say that."

* * *

He sprinkled the seed in, watching the little rook chirp thankfully and peck his food. It was ironic, Roth owning a rook. He didn't really get why the man was so fascinated by it, or why he kept it in a cage if he was so obsessed with  _freedom,_ but he let it go, because Roth was just a little off, and that was okay. Plus, he had warmed up to the little creature he named his gang after. They looked like they were one thing, but they were actually something far different. Looks like a crow, but isn't. Everyone thought his gang was going to be foolish, but they weren't.

The sudden sound of quick footsteps took Jacob's attention away from the bird and to Roth himself, who waltzed over to the table he liked to keep on the stage, setting down two large glasses and a bottle of whisky that seemed too expensive for Jacob's tastes. He was grinning like the madman he was, pouring a glass and holding it out to the Rook leader.

"A toast, my dear!" he exclaims, voice filled with excitement at their accomplishment. Jacob can't help but grin and take the cup, clinking it against Roth's when he held his up as well.

They drink, and Jacob's thoughts were right; the alcohol was too expensive, too fine a taste, too strong a burn, and had to hide his grimace and try not to cough as he drank it down in one swoop. Roth didn't seemed bothered by it at all, used to the best expenses of life.

"So," he tries to keep his voice clear and not sound like a choked animal, "what's next?"

He has a feeling Roth notices his slight discomfort, as the man grins and chuckles at him. Jacob's face was red over the cheeks and bridge of his nose; a surprisingly nice sight to behold for the moment.

"Time will tell," Maxwell motions for Jacob to sit as he does himself, both leaning back in their chairs and pouring more alcohol. The second round wasn't as bad as the first for the Rook. "Twopenny will most likely know of our actions by the end of the night," Roth continues, sounding proud and cocky, "He'll still attempt to rob the bank anyway, but I need to find out when."

"Is he really that dull?" Jacob can't help but ask. "If he's unprepared why would he risk it anyway?"

Roth chuckles again, emptying his glass as quick as he filled it. "He rather do that than tell Starrick what happened. He eithers dies outright, or tries and dies anyway."

Jacob chuckled. "Almost makes me feel sorry for the bloke."

The Blighter laughs at that, grabbing the almost half empty bottle and filling up his glass, once again. "My dear," he laughs, "your naivety will be the death of you."

The Assassin raises a brow to that. "I'm far from naïve, Roth. The only thing that matters at the end of the day, is the bastard on the end of my blade."

The look the man gives him is a confusing one to decipher. He smirks, but there's a sincerity in his eyes that Jacob had never seen before. "And may I ask; and what if you knew him?"

The younger of the two blinks. "You mean, got to know him?" When Roth nods, Jacob shrugs. "It wouldn't matter, I suppose. If there's one thing my father ever taught me, it's that you can't let your personal feelings compromise your mission. Even if I were to know him, and became  _friends_ , sort of say, if he does something that goes against the Creed, what we work for, then I would kill him all the same."

His words seem to settle deep into Roth's thoughts, and the Blighter hums quietly, taking this into consideration. Jacob pondered why the man would ask such a thing, but then again, he could be referring to their current partnership.

"Your  _Creed,"_ Maxwell repeats, seemingly interested on the subject. "What even is it for? I never understood the whole, 'Templars versus the Assassins.'"

This catches Jacob off guard. "But you're a Templar."

Roth laughs, his voice bitter as he spoke. "My dear, I was never  _asked_  to join. Starrick required my services to train his gang leaders. Paid me a handsome amount of money and enlisted me into his 'Order.' The more I did, the more money I made."

Jacob frowns. "So what's the deal, then? Don't like the way he runs things?"

Roth didn't like talking about Starrick, that much was obvious by the furrow of his brows and the irritation in his tone. He enlightened Jacob anyway: "As I've said before, the man is dreadful. Chokes the freedom out of life and runs things by what he envisions as 'perfect.' I never liked taking orders, darling," he spins the whisky in his glass. " _Freedom,_ Jacob. Stealing that, is far more than a sin… It denies us our  _humanity_."

The boy has to reprocess these words as Roth spoke them. He wondered if that's all what the man really wanted – freedom, but what kind of freedom, and at what cost? "Well," he starts, removing his hat from his head, playing with it in his hands. "That, is what our Creed works for, Roth. Freedom. Of the good people of this world." At this the Blighter leader lightens up, and Jacob continues. "The code we go by, is that an Assassin only kills those that deserve it, and protects the innocents that can't protect themselves."

Maxwell tilts his head at the Assassin, studying him carefully. Jacob spoke about the Creed as if it was everything to him. "Why so protective?" he questions curiously. He never understood why people like Jacob cared so much about people so weak. It brought him down. Took away  _his_  freedom.

Jacob only gives him a slightly offended look. "Because those people can grow into something stronger, if they see others can as well, or if they're given the chance."

Well, he's certainly never thought about that, before, Roth has to admit. It was a respectful way of looking at it. Jacob continues with a shrug. "I give them the chance to make something with their lives. Whether or not they do something about it is on them. My mentor George called it, 'natural selection.'"

That, makes Roth laugh. "Understandable!" he has to agree. "I suppose giving others a chance is worth quite a bit."

Jacob smiles now, glad to have gotten his point across. "Yes. Giving people a chance is giving them  _freedom_  to make a  _choice_."

Despite how young he was, Jacob had a humbleness about him that was fairly impressive. Underneath that cockiness and smug attitude, recklessness and carefree spirit, he certainly was wise, Roth had to give him that.

He thinks over what the Assassin had shared with him, really thinks about it. It was funny…how this mere boy could change the way he thought about things so simply, so easily. He loved it.

Jacob Frye…the spice he had been searching for his boring life.

A very wonderful surprise.

The sound of music started playing throughout the theatre, the small orchestra group beginning their practice somewhere on one of the upper floors. Jacob looks up, his eagle vision finding the group on the fourth floor. It crossed his mind once again that the music hall was  _huge_.

"Why here?" he questions. "The Alhambra?"

The boy changed the subject, distracted like a bird finding something more interesting to peck at. Roth smiles and turns to look at the upper floors as well.

"Every good criminal, needs a place to invests his ill-gotten gains," he grins, "…and what's better, than distracting the world with a little light entertainment while you do so?"

Jacob scoffs slightly, taking another good look around the hall itself. The place was always set up as if they were about to preform at any second. There were props up and people practicing their lines, papers scattered everywhere about the shows they would put on… "Oh, come now…" he starts, looking back at Roth with a smirk. "You can't tell me you don't enjoy the triumph of a well-received play? The plaudits and praise? The reviews?"

The Blighter laughs in return. "I enjoy being  _entertained,_ Jacob. If one of the productions pleases me, I am over the moon. The theatre," he turns and waves, gesturing to the hall, "is in my blood. As you so astutely discerned, theatricality is… something of a Roth specialty."

Another question immediantly found itself spilling from Jacob's lips. "Who is this Lewis that works for you?" He was more than curious. Lewis was…an odd man. Never said much, very…

"Ha!" Roth finds it funny, the look on Jacob's face as he asks. "A bit of an odd fish, isn't he? Came to me a few years past."

Jacob's nose wrinkles in slight discern. Roth thinks it's cute.

"He's very  _solemn,"_ he puts it nicely. The Blighter smirks.

"But always so polite," he grabs the whisky and pours himself another glass, "…and he has many other talents."

The Rook raises a brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

There was something that sounded like irritation in the younger's voice. Roth notices this as he studies his guest. "He keeps those unwanted away from my doors, gets me things when I can't be seen out…those sort of things. It really comes down to, my dear… Lewis is  _loyal._ There isn't many a man who are, anymore."

Jacob lets the man pour the rest of the dark whisky into his glass. "If that's the case, why not work with him? Why me?"

This…was the question Maxwell had been waiting for. He gives the Assassin a small smirk, putting his glass down and standing to his feet. "My dear," he starts with a lower, more clear tone, "there are two kinds of people in this world: those that work for the devil…" Jacob watches as he walks around the table, offering the Rook his hand, palm up. The music of the orchestra above was slow yet upbeat.

"…and those that  _dance_  with him."

It was a challenge…at least, that's how Jacob perceived it as. Roth waited expectedly for him to take his hand, testing the Assassin for either loyalty or something more intimate. Whatever it was, he found himself reaching upwards, taking the Blighter's black-gloved hand. He didn't know why he accepted this challenge, but he allowed Roth to pull him to his feet anyway.

The older leads the Rook over the stage, to an open spot free of clutter and props. It was just them on this floor, but it felt crowded to Jacob. Roth pulled him closer than he would have considered comfortable, their hands that are connected laced together by their fingers. The Blighter's other hand settled on Jacob's waist, making him tense, as if preparing to expect a blade in his chest at any second. He instinctively grabs that arm connecting them by the elbow, their eyes locked and never breaking.

Roth led him in a slow, gentle dance, following the rhythm of the orchestra upstairs. Their eyes were locked, neither breaking for even a second. They were only an inch or two apart. It would be so easy to kill the either at the moment. All it would take, is a swipe of an arm, or flick of a wrist.

They swayed into the music, somehow easily avoiding stepping on the others feet. The tension between the two is heavy yet somehow enjoyable. If it buried him alive, Jacob didn't think he would mind too much. The danger of Maxwell Roth was ever present. There was always the chance the man could kill him at any moment.

He loved it.

The thrill.

The danger.

So he let his supposed enemy and rival lead him through the dance, their eyes still never breaking.

"I'm not one for dancing," he has to say something, and so he does, quietly.

Roth's lips pull up in a small smirk. "But always so eager to please."

Something about those words forced a heat to creep up the younger's face. "Hardly," he answers. Did their faces get closer? He could practically feel the whisky-scented breath of the Blighter on his own. "Just willing to take on a challenge, Roth."

"Then you know why I chose you over Lewis, Jacob, my dear," Maxwell answers, a smug undertone to his words, as if he were proud of his decision.

The thought crosses the Assassin's mind on how much trouble he would be in if his sister found out. Oh, she would surely disown him, he knew for sure. Working with a Templar…or…whatever Roth claimed to be. He wasn't sure he knew yet. He could hardly trust him, that was for sure.

"I'm sure I'm breaking some kind of code," he thinks aloud. "Whether or not you feel you are a Templar, you still work for one."

"Against one, my dear," Roth corrects. "Have I not proven myself to you, or is your  _Creed_  weighing you down?"

"I don't work for anyone," Jacob responds, a bit defensively. "I just happen to agree with their methods. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that." As much as he did support the Creed and what it stood for, he didn't care too much for its rules and restrictions.

"You sound quite proud of them, however," Roth acknowledges. "Of what they believe in."

The Rook frowns. "Sometimes. I do believe in freedom and such, but sometimes they forget about what else we stand for." A small scowl takes a hold of his face, his brows furrowing slightly. "Some things are worth more than freedom."

Roth nearly chokes at these words. He has to stop and stare at the Assassin, completely taken off guard. More than freedom?

"What else?" he pressures, wanting to hear it for himself.

Jacob gives a somewhat nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "A few key things, actually."

The music above seemed to grow quieter as they continued to dance. They stare at each other for a moment, before the hand on Jacob's waist sneaks its way to the small of his back, pulling him just the meter closer. So close, now.

"Enlighten me, then," the criminal mastermind pushes, his voice lowered considerably.

It took all his willpower to not pull away. Jacob accepts the next challenge without a second thought. "Well," he starts slowly. "First…there's  _family_ ," he says it almost sadly, as if he wasn't sure he truly believed it. "…to help you grow."

Their feet step back, then forward, to one side, then to the other. "Then there's  _happiness,"_ Jacob stresses the word, and Roth feels the curiousity burning inside him grow. "…to do what makes you happy no matter what. You don't need to be free to be happy…especially if you have someone with you through it all."

He thought about that, Roth did, as the Rook continues. "And then finally," he pauses, a small flush of pink creeping across his cheeks. "…there's  _love,"_ he seems to need to catch his breath, "something that should never be traded for something like freedom." This seems to surprise Roth, and Jacob felt a somberness in his own tone. "For your family…for your partner…" he thought of Evie and all the fighting they've been through. He thought about Pearl and the idea that…if she weren't a Templar… "It's one thing to do whatever you want because it makes you feel free…it's another to lose someone dear to you because of it."

Jacob talked as if he spoke from experience. He probably was, Roth thought to himself.

The music came to a quiet end, and they stop, still holding on to each other, their eyes never faltering their stare.

"Sometimes," Jacob concluded, "you have to weigh down what matters most to you, and in the end, choose something greater over what you thought you believed in before."

The words struck Maxwell like a knife. It was as if Jacob had gathered together all of his thoughts and spoke it in one, diabolical sentence. Everything Roth had thought since meeting Jacob…all in that one phrase.

Would he give up freedom and everything he believed in…for him?

He couldn't answer. He didn't know.

For once in his life…Maxwell Roth didn't know.

It was obvious by now that their beliefs were different. They both felt it. The tension had grown tremendously, and Jacob feared this very topic… _freedom…_ would be the blade that cuts their partnership in half.

"Very inspiring words, my dear," Roth finally responded, quietly, like their entire conversation had been spoken.

"It's what I believe in," Jacob responds, just as low. "Ignoring those things is what has caused so much trouble in the Creed…in London…everywhere…"

Roth has to say it: "You speak as if you've lived it for yourself."

There it was…pain flashing in those hazel green eyes. Jacob is the one to finally break their long kept eye contact, his gaze falling to the floor. "Life can be unfortunate," his voice is bitter.

"Indeed it can," Roth agrees, unable to deny that somber fact. "However, my parents used to tell me everything happens for a reason…" Jacob looks back up, startled by this. Roth had a small smirk teasing his lips, and a sly glint in his eyes. "I never really believed it until now."

"What made you rethink this?" The Assassin questions.

The smirk fades and suddenly the heaviness is stronger than ever. Roth's hand removes itself from the younger's back, slowly, carefully lifting it up to cup the side of the Rook's face. Jacob's breath catches in his throat at the sudden touch, suddenly feeling very hot, his chest aching in a way he couldn't grasp. Roth's hand, gloved but warm, feels along the base of his jaw and trails to the corner of his mouth, gently, as if mesmerized in the sight of the Frye twin.

"Take a guess, darling," Roth's voice was no more than a husky whisper.

…and they were so close. So very close. There was a pull, indescribable, between them, ever so slowly leading them closer to each other. Just an inch, less then that now, their faces apart. Jacob had no idea what he was doing, no idea what Roth was doing. The hand on the side of his mouth seemed to hold him a bit tighter, pulling even closer. He can't breathe, can't think. Their eyes close, Roth's lips just hovering over his, hot breath into his own slightly parted ones. All it would take, is a little push, and…

The sound of gunshots outside startled them out of their trance, causing them to jump and yank away from each other. Their eyes were wide and their breath was ragged, their minds trying to process what just happened.

More gunshots now could be heard, followed by loud yelling. The back doors to the theatre opened as a Blighter ran inside, panting heavily, as he ran up to them, completely oblivious to their shock.

"Mr. Roth…sir… There's a fight with…" he trails off, his eyes widening once he realizes who else is standing there. Wasn't that the Assassin gang leader? Of the Rooks?

He doesn't have long to ponder before both Roth and Jacob are running passed him, quickly out the back door into the alley outside.

"I 'oughta rip your legs off!" someone yelled drunkenly, and to Jacob's slight horror it was one of his Rooks. In fact…they all looked drunk.

The two gangs were crowded in the street, going at each other with knives and snarls. It was ironic, really, and Jacob had to keep his amusement to himself. Here he and Roth were just inside dancing, while their gangs are out here killing each other…

There's a joke to be had somewhere, but he lets it go in favor of stopping things before he loses any more men. "Oi!" he shouts loudly, leaving Roth behind as he runs through the crowd of Blighters, grabbing one of them off one of his Rooks and throwing him aside. "That's enough!"

The two groups stumble back from each other. Jacob was pretty sure they were all drunk, if not then most of them. " _What in the bloody hell_  is going on  _here_?" he demands to know.

One of the Rooks behind him points an accusing finger at the Blighters. "The bastards attacked Miss Evie, sir. Killed ol' friends of ours as well!"

Jacob's eyes widen as one of the Blighters speaks up. "The broad took out half our lads!" he argues. "We had e'ery right to show 'er her place!"

"You attacked  _my sister?_ " Jacob snarls, and then the Blighters looked absolutely terrified. All it took was a flick of Jacob's wrist and his hidden blade was retracted, and they all jumped backwards. "I should kill all of you," he warns.

A few of them turned around and started stumbling away, the one in front cowered back, holding his hands up in show of fear. "I-It wasn't us, sir!" he exclaims. "W-We just saw the damage!"

Some of the Rooks snickered. Jacob looked livid.

"You have three seconds to get out of my face, before I shove my blade down your throats," he glowered, and that was all it took to get them scrambling away as fast as they could, drunk as they were.

Any other time he would have killed them, but…

They were Roth's loyal men, and he would leave that to him. Even though the Blighter leader claimed he didn't care when Jacob killed his men, he felt like it would be wrong to do so now, with their partnership and all. His eyes find the man himself watching from a distance, and their eyes lock. They would talk about this later, he knew. He wondered if Roth knew about the fight.

Turning to the Rooks behind him, he waves them away. "Go home, now," he orders. "And from now on, unless the Blighters are doing something they shouldn't be, don't go around starting fights. We don't own this borough yet."

The men in green seemed guilty, and they all nod, with follows of, 'yes sir,' and 'of course Mr. Frye.'

With that done, Jacob takes one last glance back towards the alley. Maxwell was gone, probably inside dealing with his own men. The Assassin then sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

So much for not losing any more of his gang members, he thinks to himself.

He takes off towards the train station, his mind whirling. He was fearful that Evie was hurt, and angry, because the one thing he asks of her, she ignores completely.


	3. Chapter Two - Refreshing Restart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I suppose we're even now?"  
> "I had said the same thing."

**Chapter Two – Refreshing Restart**

"Evie!"

The young assassin looks up with widened eyes, startled by the sudden call. She sat on the side of the bed in the first train car, wrapping new bandages around her right wrist. A sudden jolt of guilt and anxiety passes through her, as she watches her brother run up.

"Jacob…" she starts slowly. He stares at her, bewildered. She looked  _terrible._ A black eye, cut cheek, wrapping bandages around her bloody arm… He can't speak. Can't find a way to properly form words because he's  _so angry,_ but feels  _so bad_ to see his sister like this.

"What," he forces himself to choke out, his voice quiet. " _What_  happened?"

She closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Jacob… I…" She looks at him, knowing she needed to just come out with it. "Nigel was arrested in the Strand after getting himself into trouble with some Templars. I went and cleared his name. Afterwards…" she pauses, watching Jacob's brows furrow, his hazel eyes locked tightly on her. "…I heard rumors of Lucy Thorne around the area, so I searched about to see any sign of her. I was on my way back, headed through Leicester Square when a large group of Blighters attacked me."

It was Jacob's turn to startle, his own eyes widening as he took in this information. She had been right in front of the Alhambra…

She continues, hesitantly. "A group of Rooks nearby saw the commotion and ran to aid me, but…" She swallows. "…they were killed. A large group of policemen joined in and half of them gone, as well."

The younger of the Frye twins holds both his hands up to his head, knocking his hat back and grabbing ahold of his hair. The frustration was clearly written all over his face, and he wipes a hand across it, breathing in deeply as he attempted to control his temper.

"And you couldn't get out of there?" he questions.

She frowns. "Jacob, I tried. I ignored them as much as they would allow me to, and when things got out of hand I tried to flee. I was near unconscious when…" she stops, her eyes narrowing as she forced the memory to replay in her head.

"When what?" he asks, a bit snappier than he liked.

"I'm not exactly sure what happened," she admits. "I heard someone, a man, yelling at the Blighters to stop and leave me alone. He said something else, something odd, but I can't remember. Whoever it was dropped me off at Mr. Green's shop."

Jacob froze.

 _Roth_.

Now, he was more than conflicted. On one hand he was grateful the man had saved his sister's life. On the other hand, he was irritated he never told him.  _He should have told him…_

The way Jacob tensed and the way he paled slightly worried her. She wished she could hear his thoughts. There were times she could read him like a book, and times like now she felt as if she didn't even know him. He was quiet for a minute or two, before he takes a step back and plops down into the chair Evie usually sat in. He puts his chin in both of his hands and gives her the most exhausted look she has ever seen him make.

"I told you not to go there…" he mumbles.

She looks down. "I know, Jacob." Her own voice was as quiet as his. Looking up, she meets his eyes again, and they stare, unmoving. Jacob was surprisingly calm, a bit too calm, to her. She wants to apologize, she does, but she knows that isn't going to bring back the Rooks nor heal her wounds.

"I've made a terrible mistake," she forces herself to admit instead. It's all she can say.

Her brother leans back in the chair, closing his eyes. "Yes, but I'm not exactly innocent either."

This caught her off guard. He seemed to be proposing something, and it wasn't hard to figure it out.

"I feel terrible, for the Rooks," she murmurs quietly. He nods and looks up at the ceiling of the car.

"I do too," his voice held a tint of anger to it, but it quickly dissolved as he continued. "…but I'm glad you're okay."

He had always been the more forgiving of the two of them, when his ego wasn't involved, or when she was injured. Sure she could blow up a factory and he'd rub it in her face, but if she was injured, all jokes were thrown out the window and he immediantly forgave her. It made her feel a guiltiness she wasn't comfortable with. Whenever  _he_ did something wrong, injured or not, she would scold him for his recklessness.

"So…" she starts quietly. "…now…?"

He shrugs. "I'll deal with the Rooks." He pushes himself to his feet, reaching down to grab his top hat off of the floor. He dusts it off, before putting it on his head. To her surprise, a teasing smirk was curving his lips. "I suppose we're even now?"

She takes a moment to register what he said, before being unable to stop the smirk that curves her own lips. "I had said the same thing…"

They both chuckle, feeling a calm settle between them. Despite the dark circumstances, they had found a way to make amends.

He walks over to her, ruffling the top of her head with a smile. "I'll be back."

She reaches up and takes his hand, holding it tightly in her own. "Be careful, Jacob Frye."

He winks at her before turning, headed towards the back of the train and on his way.

* * *

It was dusk when the Assassin showed up, and even though he expected this visit, he wasn't expecting how the visit would go.

Roth had been throwing his jacket somewhere carelessly on the floor of his office, folding up the white sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, hurrying to find those blasted papers he needed for the upcoming show. His thoughts had been interrupted when he heard a loud thud outside the window, looking out to the little balcony that he had put up for Jacob, who claimed ' _Assassin's don't use doors…'_  There, in fact, was Jacob himself, and Roth wondered how in the hell the boy had gotten up there without breaking his neck, considering the fact that he had most definitely been drinking his life away.

The Frye stumbled forward as he hopped through the window, nearly falling flat on his face as his foot caught in the bottom of the window sill. He tumbles forward, straight into Roth's arms, who had run forward to catch the Assassin before he broke his nose.

"Jacob, darling," he chides, chuckling. "Now what have you done with yourself?"

The man groans and mutters something under his breath, allowing the Blighter to help him stand to his feet. "Why…" he nearly rasps, "why didn't you  _tell_ me?"

It had been a few days since the accident, and he could tell the Rook leader hadn't gotten much sleep, if any. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was flushed, the smell of liquor strong on him, and he even carried a pint of whiskey in his left hand. He wasn't wearing his hat, leaving Roth with the feeling he must have dropped it somewhere along the way there. His clothes were ruffled and his hair greasy...quite the mess for an  _Assassin…_

It didn't take a genius to figure out what the ragged Rook was asking. Roth had known that the question was going to be the first thing Jacob said to him when he seen him again. He certainty hadn't expected him  _drunk_.

Choosing his words wisely, he keeps a hand on the other's shoulder to prevent him from falling over. "My dear," he begins carefully. "I hadn't told you of the fight that morning because I didn't want it to upset you. We had much to do that day, and I knew that she would be okay when you returned back to her."

Jacob shook his head, a bit dramatically, and glared at him. "You  _still_  should have said  _something."_

Roth shrugs. "I was going to, Jacob, but your Rooks beat me to it. Think: had I told you before we went on our outing, would you have been able to focus at all, or would you have even gone?"

The Assassin frowns, his brows furrowing as his slightly delirious mind tried to piece together what the thespian was telling him. Would he have gone?

' _Never allow your personal feelings to compromise your missions.'_

…but it was  _his sister._

Pushing his father's words out of his head, he shakes it and looks down. "No…" he mutters quietly. He wouldn't have. He would have run back to see if Evie was okay. He would have ruined their whole mission.

Roth gives him a kind, teasing smile. "Exactly, my dear. Come, sit. I will go put on a bath for you."

He guides Jacob over to the couch on the other side of his office, sitting him down. Once he was sure his guest would be alright, he turns and heads out of the room, most likely to the lavatory. Jacob sat there, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He felt foolish for thinking Roth had been planning something against him. If the man wasn't trustworthy, surely he would have proven that by now? They've worked together nearly the entire time the Assassins have been in London, why would he suddenly turn on him now?

 _Because you can never fully trust another,_ he reminded himself. Not even his sister.

He thought about everything they've accomplished together, and all the good they've done for London. Elliotson was gone, as well as the controlling Soothing Syrup, and the patients of Lambeth were no longer in danger. Pearl Attaway was no longer stealing the transportation system from the good people who started it in the first place. The large train of explosives that would have blown Buckingham to bits, was destroyed before it could even become a threat. Templars were disappearing left and right, control over the imports and exports of London were in Rook hands…

Yes, they've done so much, and so well, too. If Roth was going to stab him in the back, surely he would have done so by now…?

Maybe it was the alcohol, he excused himself. Messing with his thoughts and emotions.

"Jacob?" Roth calls as he returns and motions for the Assassin to stand. "Here, darling," he grabs ahold of the younger man under his arm, pulling him to his feet. Jacob leaned against him as he walked him to the bathing room, suddenly feeling very exhausted.

"You're not going to drown yourself, are you dear?" Roth teases as he leads him into the fairly sized room.

Jacob gives him a sideways glare, not sure if that was supposed to be a hint at something or not. "I'll be fine," he mutters, and the Blighter grins.

"Very well. Take your time," he bids him, leaving the Rook by himself and shutting the door behind him.

Jacob stood there for a moment, frowning at the hot, soapy water in the tub.

* * *

He woke up the next morning in a bit of a shock. First of all, he was in a bed. That wasn't normal. Usually he fell asleep on the couch inside his car in the train, and once in a great while on the bed in Evie's car. Then, he was under the blankets, and he was only wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a clean, white buttoned shirt. These weren't his clothes…

He takes a look around, tense and ready to fight for his life, only to realize he was in a large bedroom fit for a king. The bed was a double, fitted with red sheets. He couldn't tell if the walls were burgundy or red in the dim lighting, but the floors were a dark hardwood, fitted by a few red rugs here and there. There was a large wardrobe beside a just as sized dresser, a wide mirror above it, all the furniture made of dark cherry wood. The nightstand beside him held a plump round lamp, and a tall glass of water beside it. A note and two, little white pills sat next to it, and his curiousity took both items in each hand.

_My darling Jacob,_

_I didn't feel it safe to send you home in your condition, so I've rented you my personal space for the night. Take this medication when you wake; I'm sure you'll have quite the headache! I will be down backstage working with the cast for an upcoming performance. Rest as you need to and see me when you're fit._

_Maxwell_

_Post Scriptum: Your clothes are being washed with the maid, Mary. I've set up fresh ones for you on the chair beside the bed. They are yours to keep._

Jacob turns and looks on the other side of the bed, at the mentioned chair. Sure enough, there was a small pile of clothes sitting there, perfected with a new top hat resting on them.

Taking the medicine and downing the water in one gulp, he swings over the side of the bed and reaches for the hat. It had to be brand new, he thought. The material was soft and there was a silver strip around the bottom. Different. He glances at the clothes and notices his weapons and gauntlet laying by them.

When did he even go to bed? he thinks to himself. He remembered bathing, but…didn't he fall asleep in the tub? If that was the case, how did he dress himself and get to…?

He freezes and feels every inch of his body heat up, his eyes widening.

Did Roth…?

There was no way…

Maybe he was over thinking things. Yes, that sounded right. Of course he dressed himself and got himself to bed. What was he thinking? That Roth got him out of the tub and dried and dressed him?  _Absolutely not._

It didn't stop the embarrassed flush of red from spreading across his face like a wildfire. Just thinking about it made him feel a sickening twist in his stomach that nearly made him nauseous.

He drives the discomfiting thoughts from his mind by shaking his head and standing up. He'd get dressed and see what Roth was up to, and if he had any information about Twopenny. It's been a few days, and he was sure something had come up by now.

* * *

The outfit was…interesting to say the least.

A silky white shirt was decorated with silver cuffs, and buttoned up in the middle, with a soft, thick black vest over it. The pants were black and went with his boots rather well, which looked as if they had been polished up. The new coat was unexpected but intriguing at the same time. It was black as well, with a pointed hood befitting an Assassin, the interior an odd but unique silver, to match the top hat. It buckled like his other jackets did, in the front; the two large straps black with silver buckles and silver threading. The sleeves were long, and covered to halfway down his hands, which wore the black gloves that came with it all, while the silver cuffs of the white shirt's sleeve's stuck out at the ends. The shoulders were covered with black leather, more of the silver embroidery on it. A black cape on the right side of the jacket fell down to his belt, and, on it, to Jacob's stunned surprise, was the symbol of the Assassins, in the same silver that decorated the rest of his outfit.

Roth…made this for him?

Why?

Why would he go through all that trouble and expenses to have something so…exclusive? He didn't understand. He couldn't understand.

The outfit fitted him just  _perfectly,_ almost  _too_  perfectly. It was just…

He felt flattered, but puzzled.

Placing the hat on his head, he takes a good look at himself in the mirror. As handsome as he knew he was, he suddenly felt very unsure of himself. He wasn't used to dressing so…high up. Even though Evie was constantly picking on his more laid back, rough wear, he felt more comfortable in something that he could get dirty without a care. When he dressed nice, he felt constricted. Claustrophobic.

The outfit was light yet warm, and suited him well. He wasn't sure if he would continue to wear it or not.

Maybe just this once, and then he'll see.

* * *

He passed by Lewis on his way down to the backstage area. The doorman gave him a blank look as he walked by, and Jacob smirked in return. Lewis was weird. He had a personality that would fit a lunatic, in Jacob's opinion. He seemed content with his life and acted almost like a machine, and always spoke in dark tones. He only had one facial expression, and it was just plain creepy.

It didn't stop the Rook from teasing him, though.

He found Roth signing some papers over a podium, before handing them to a young woman most likely in her early twenties. She thanked him and left, leaving the thespian to sigh and grab himself a drink. He turned when he heard the heavy footsteps of Jacob's boots and smiled, his eyes lighting up, taking in every striking detail of the man, looking him up and down.

Jacob noticed, again feeling that odd turning in his stomach and heat in his cheeks creep back into him.

"Ah! Jacob!" He greets, in that booming, growling voice of his. "You look much better! Much better indeed!" He motions for him to sit and he does, as he rambles on. "You put me in quite the shock, showing up in the shape you were."

The younger of the two frowns and shrugs his shoulders. "I've had a lot to deal with these past few days."

Roth nods, setting a cup of a lighter whisky down for the Rook. Nothing too strong -it was far too early for that, yet. "Your sister?" he asks, making conversation as he himself sits down in a chair a few feet from the other male.

Jacob plays with the glass in his hands, swirling the liquid inside it around. "That, and my Rooks. We had a small memorial for the ones that were killed in the fight. I had to contact their friends and family…" he trails off, sounding hurt.

Roth frowns, watching the Assassin curiously. "You really care for all of them?" It sounded more like a statement then a question.

Jacob nods. "They all have their own lives, their own goals and hopes. Having them killed in something so ridiculous is frustrating. One of them…he adopted two orphans six years of age, each. I had to tell them he was never coming back to them."

His voice sounded almost choked, and he drank it back in one whole gulp of his drink.

Roth shakes his head, standing to pour more into the Rook's cup. "You can't let every single death bother you, dear. You are an  _Assassin_ , after all."

Jacob chuckles at that, shaking his head as Roth sits back down. "You're right, but I can't help it. How does it not bother you?"

The Blighter leader smirks. "Letting things as such bother you is allowing yourself to be restrained, my dear. We'll have to work on that, you and I. Soon," he watches Jacob take another sip of his drink, those hazel eyes never breaking from his, "you will learn to be free, as I am."

Jacob smirks and raises his brow at him. "You're not going to go around slaughtering my men, are you?"

Roth laughs. "I wouldn't dream of it, dear. They've been useful in our schemes against our not so Grand Master."

The devil could practically been seen twinkling in Jacob's eyes, and Roth loved it. "That reminds me… Any news on Twopenny?"

The Blighter grins and nearly bolts to his feet, holding up a finger. "Ah, yes! I nearly forgot! Come with me, darling, I have something to show you!"

Jacob stands as Roth turns and marches across the stage, yelling for Lewis to prepare the carraige.

He felt better…a  _lot_  better. After all the hell he had to deal with for the last few days, he felt refreshed, and ready to go on his next insane adventure with Maxwell Roth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The outfit I gave Jacob is inspired by the belt you earn after killing Starrick. It's my favorite out of all of them, and I decided to give him something to match it. Also a little inspired by a certain other Assassin's outfit.
> 
> -Anonymoux


	4. Chapter Three - The Day Before Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob and Roth plan to assassinate Twopenny. Evie makes a horrid discovery on what happened to the deed to Attaway Transport.   
> "Careful, Evie."

**Chapter Three –** **The Day Before Tomorrow**

"Find anything?" Evie asks as she steps up to Henry Green's side. The Indian Assassin felt his breath catch in his throat at her closeness, but didn't comment on it.

"No, not yet. My spies still haven't located Ms. Thorne, and I'm still searching for whatever it is that matches that key," he explains, flipping the page of the book resting on the table. He brings his attention up to her, checking over her visible injuries. She looked a lot better. If there was one thing he admired about the Frye twins, was that they could take a hit and still get back on their feet without a problem. He once saw Jacob stabbed in the shoulder and beat around heavily in one of Topping's clubs (the Blighters claiming he cheated during the match), to turn around and take every single one of them out with a smirk. He walked away and brushed it off like it was nothing, commenting on the surprised look on Henry's face as he passed.

' _You alright there, Greenie?'_ he had laughed.

Evie must have caught him staring, because her face blossoms into a soft red, clearing her throat as she took a step back. "Let me know when you find anything," she says, a bit quietly.

His eyes widen and he nods, looking away feeling embarrassed. "Of course." Noticing her turn to leave, he frowns. "Are you heading out?"

She turns and gives him a knowing smile. "Don't worry, I'm in perfectly well health. I'm just going to check on Southwark, and see if Attaway's assassination hurt anything."

Henry smiles. "Besides Starrick's mood, I'm sure."

She laughs lightly, waving as she heads towards the back of the train.

She hoped he was right.

* * *

"Bus feud ends in blood!"

"I'll take one," Jacob snatches the newspaper out of the boy's hands, pretending to read over it as he looked around. There he was, Twopenny, walking passed talking arrogance.

"I say we stop this goodwill towards strangers nonsense and focus on what London really needs," he exclaims to the bored Blighters behind him, "solid leadership whose hard work will raise everyone up to success. As go the titans of business," he kicks a homeless man's hat filled with a few pounds in it, causing the man to yell in shock. "…so goes the world."

The man on the ground scurries to pick up his money. Twopenny looks down with distaste. "You weak fool! Get a job!"

Jacob watches with a sneer as the Templar walks away. He would deal with him later, he had a mission to do.

He looks up and notices the large amount of policemen walking throughout the exchange. He chuckles as he hands the paper back to the boy behind him, oblivious to the dirty look he was given. "The best guards money can buy," he comments. "Won't do Mr. Dredge any good."

If he could get Dredge to talk, he would have all the information he needed to take down Twopenny at the bank.

Heading up the stairs, the Assassin motions for the few Rooks standing at the entrance to follow him. Pulling them just inside the building, he speaks to them in a hushed voice. "I need you boys to cause some trouble outside, get these rozzers to chase after you."

The Rooks grin, the first one nodding enthusiastically. "Can do, sir."

His gang loved it when he sent them to get into trouble.

It didn't take long for them to pick on a nearby group of Blighters and cause a scene, multiple of the policemen running out to see what the ruckus was about. With less guards inside, Jacob had room to work.

Using his second sight to locate Mr. Dredge was easy enough. The man appeared in bright yellow as he walked around asking people odd questions. It was strange, Jacob thought for a moment. His voice sounded familiar…

He pushes through the crowd of people, blending in like the Assassin he was, listening in to the interesting man.

"Pardon me; do you do business at the bank?" he asked, and when the person said no, he went on to the next. The group of people sitting at the table looked up as he approached them. "I have a couple of innocent questions," he started, and they nodded. "Who here has recently visited the Bank of England?"

Jacob huffed impatiently as he watched Dredge turn around. Right as he passed, the Assassin took the opportunity to grab his arm and twist it around, pulling the man towards the back exit.

"What on Earth?!" Dredge exclaims.

Jacob doesn't pay him much attention as he weaves them passed a few irritated-looking cops. "Keep your eyes ahead of you and  _walk,"_ he threatens with a low tone. Dredge scoffed.

"Come now, you are barking up the wrong tree, sir." When Jacob didn't listen, pulling them out of the building and passed a shopping stand, he growled. "Stupid pillock! I'll have you arrested, I'll-!"

"The less you fight," Jacob snarls, cutting him off, "the sooner you'll be released. Eyes front."

They're walking down the street to a nearby alley. Dredge blinks, as if realizing something. "Now wait a minute… I know that voice! Frye, is that you?" When Jacob's eyes widen, the man knows it's true. "Frye!"

Jacob takes a sudden turn down the alley, as the man tries to break free of his hold. "Frye!" he exclaims again, pulling away. "Jacob! It's me! Sergeant Frederick Abberline!"

Of course it is, Jacob thinks with disappointment as he pushes the investigator away. He supposed Mr. Dredge wasn't even a real person. "Freddy," he muttered, aggravation evident in his tone.

Abberline gives him a warning glare. "Sergeant," he corrected. "Under cover." When Jacob gives him a questioning look, he answers: "There's to be a robbery at the Bank of England, I'm sure of it."

Jacob's mouth forms an 'oh' as he connects the dots. "I know," he finally smirks, figuring he could still get his information. Freddy's eyes widen.

"You know? What do you mean,  _you know?"_

Jacob shrugs it off. "Let's just say I have a way of figuring things out," he smirks. Freddy looks at him disapprovingly.

"You have contacts?" he questions, and the Assassin frowns.

"Something of the sort, why?"

Freddy looks conflicted. "Why didn't you come to me sooner if you knew? Who told you this information?"

Jacob's eyes widen. "Whoa, Freddy! First of all, Assassin's don't usually go to the police for help, and secondly, my contacts stay anonymous."

The policeman throws his hands up. " _Seriously_ , Frye?! Let me remind you that it was you and your sister that came to me in the first place!"

Jacob felt something bitter rise in his throat. "And how many bounties have I caught for you, Freddy? You haven't exactly returned the favor like we were hoping."

The cop and the Assassin glare at each other heatedly, feeling both frustrated and awkward at the same time. "Besides," Jacob coughs out. "My contact wants nothing to do with you lot. I just  _happened_ to run into you."

Abberline lets out a sigh and pitches the skin between his eyes. As much as he liked the Frye twins, they certainly drove him mad. What he really wanted to know, was who Jacob's contact was. Whoever it was, was somehow able to get the information before he himself did.  _That_  bothered him, he thought as he looked up at the gang leader waiting for an answer. Either this person was a very good spy, or they worked with whoever was robbing the bank.

Then again…

A sudden ill feeling settles over the sergeant then, and he snaps his attention to Jacob, taking a step forward. "You didn't have anything to do with the incident at Cockham Merchants, did you?"

Jacob raises a brow, taken aback by this sudden accusation. "What makes you ask that?" he inquires, not sure if he truly wanted to know.

"Because that's who supplies the robberies!" the officer exclaims, watching Jacob's lips twitch upwards in a guilty smile. "You  _did_ have something to do with that, didn't you?"

The Rook holds up his hands innocently. "It wasn't  _my_ idea. Besides: their weapons were destroyed and now it will be easier to catch them at the bank."

"What do you mean it wasn't  _your_ idea?" Freddy's eyes narrow. "You  _blew up_  an entire warehouse and a sodding  _boat._ How in the world do you go about something like that?"

The Assassin shrugs like it wasn't a big deal. "My contact had workers in there that were 'undercover,'" he seems to be mocking the detective.

The cop scowls. "And did you ever think that there could have been  _innocent people_ in there?"

All arrogance was wiped from Jacob's face faster than Abberline could comprehend. A nasty scowl took hold of his features and he gives the cop the most frightening look he has ever seen from someone before.

"I assure you,  _Sergeant,"_  Jacob's voice was dark and unnerving, "that we Assassins may kill, but  _never_  an innocent. I made certain there was no one in that explosion that didn't deserve it."

Jacob sounded  _hurt,_ and suddenly the cop felt…guilty. He straight up accused Jacob of killing the people he was trying to protect, with after everything the Frye twin has done for the city. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he clears it as he speaks.

"I apologize, I shouldn't have even considered it," he starts, and Jacob's face softens some. Freddy sighs and rubs a hand over his face, fixing his glasses. "It was just a mess, Jacob. We couldn't even identify a single person there, no witnesses, no leads. Do you have any idea how hard it was to cover that up? Believe it or not, Frye, I've been dusting over both yours and your sister's actions since the two of you arrived in London. It isn't exactly child's play."

Now Jacob looked guilty, and he looks down, frowning. Okay…so maybe he and Roth  _did_  get a little carried away. Hell, Evie would go  _ballistic_  if she found out.

The two men seemed to be at an understanding with each other, then, and they both meet eyes, calmer now. Jacob sighs this time, holding out a hand in offer. "Look, I know who it is that's going to rob the bank. I just need to know how he's going to do it, and how to stop him."

Abberline perks up now in interest, giving Jacob another startled look. "Who?"

Jacob gives him a weak smirk. "You're not going to like it…"

The cop rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Now, see here, I am graced with the Abberline family's robust constitution."

Jacob raises his brows and shrugs. "Twopenny."

The cop coughs at this sudden news. "The governor of the bank?" He takes a step back, looking around. "I think I might need to sit down."

Jacob smirks, shaking his head. "You help me, and I'll help you?" he offers.

"The boys at the station are never going to believe this," Freddy groans as he looks up at the cloudy sky in exasperation.

Jacob takes a bouncing step forward, putting a hand on the other's shoulder. "Then let me  _help_. Just imagine the headlines:" he holds up his hand, as if reading the paper himself, "'Thieves Caught in the Act! Abberline Right All Along!'" He gives the cop a knowing look, prying for information.

Freddy sighs for what felt like the hundredth time since being kidnapped by the Assassin, and gives him a defeated look.

"Meet me at the bank tomorrow. That's most likely when it'll happen."

Jacob gives him a devilish smile as he turns around, walking away with pep in his step. "Thanks, Freddy!"

The cop flushes and points an accusing finger at him. "It's Sergeant! And… I-I'm keeping an eye on you!"

* * *

Evie frowns as she leans over the building, watching the Blighters surround a man, who was stepping back, trying to keep his cool.

"I will not build a single bus for you criminals!" she hears him exclaim, and one of the Blighters reaches for his gun.

"Oh… You'll do as we say, Bayley, or we're gonna have to pay you and your family a visit."

The man's eyes widen. "You leave them be!"

Evie took it upon herself to intervene before things got too out of hand, and jumps down from the roof, calling out at them. "Hey!"

With the Blighters distracted, Bayley jumps into his carraige and takes off.

"After him!" one of the gang members yell, and jumps in the next carraige.

Evie wastes no time in jumping on the back of their carraige, scrambling up the side of it as they launched forward. She struggles to reach them at the front of the vehicle and slices them both with her hidden blade when she does, taking the reigns to chase after Bayley. The sound of gunshots behind her brought her attention to more Blighters coming after them, and a carraige ramming into Bayley's with even more of the irritating criminals.

She rams her carraige into the one coming up on her right, sending them flying as she speeds away to the two in front of her. She stands and jumps to the Blighter's carraige, throwing him out, before jumping to Bayley's carraige and taking the reigns.

She looks around them, not seeing any more of the Blighters, before turning her attention to the hyperventilating man beside her. "Take deep breaths," she says softly, "they're gone."

Bayley shakes his head, grabbing his head. "Not for long. They'll hurt my kids, they'll…" he was on the verge of breaking down.

"Tell me why you've got the Blighters after you," she pushes, trying to calm him down.

The man shakes his head again. "The city's been turned upside down since Attaway Transport and the Millner Company went belly-up! With no one to fill their shoes, the gangs made their move."

Of course. Evie closes her eyes for a second, taking in a deep breath. _'Well done, Jacob.'_ She knew Attaway's death caused a disturbance in the transportation system, but she didn't think it was  _this_  bad. The most problems she's had is with catching a bus, for herself or for other people.

Bayley continues, sounding a bit more calm. "As Ed Bayley, the only omnibus builder in the city, they are  _demanding_  that I work for them. I know  _good_  men who want to form a united transport company. What is it they say in America? For the People, By the People? That is our intention for the London General Omnibus Company, but those  _thugs_  got hold of the deed to Attaway Transport. We  _need_ it to begin our company."

This was quite the disaster. Jacob definitely owed her, she noted to herself as she smiles at Bayley. "Mr. Bayley, I am Ms. Frye. Consider me an ally to your cause."

The look he gives her is one full of gratitude. "You could get the deed back?"

She smiles and nods. "Yes. I'll head to the warehouse. I'll meet you when I have it."

He looks incredibly relieved. "Oh, thank you, Ms. Frye."

She stops the carraige and jumps out, watching him take the reigns and make his way. She had driven them close to the warehouse and begins formulating a plan, pulling her hood up over her head. How could Jacob be so reckless? she thinks with distaste. An innocent man and his family could have been killed because of the mess of a situation he caused.

She sneaks in through the gates of the warehouse, hiding behind a tall stack of crates outside the building's entrance. She uses her eagle vision to look for Blighters and counts at least thirteen of them. The first two guarding the entrance were down with a flick of two throwing knives to the head. The third with her hidden blade as she pulled him around the corner. The fourth and fifth ones as she made her way inside behind a bus, and the sixth before he had time to call out for help. The seventh was taken care of as she made her way to the top of the steps. The eighth down as he turned the corner to meet her hidden blade. The ninth and tenth ones -snipers- got to meet more throwing knives, their bodies falling from where they stood on the highest floor. The eleventh one sees them fall and calls out to the twelfth, before she runs up behind them, slicing the left one's neck and turning to slash the other with her blade. They fall, and her eyes search for the last Blighter— the one with the deed.

She makes her way to the top floor where he was, in a little office going over papers she assumed was the deed. She grabs him and turns him around, startling him.

"Oi!" he exclaims in shock. "I d-don't have it!"

"Have what?" she sneers at him, her voice practically a growl. He goes to take a step back but bumps into the desk behind him. Her grip tightens on the collar of his shirt as he yells out.

"Th-The deed! You're looking for the deed?!"

She frowns at him. He knew exactly what she was coming for. Someone must have warned them while she was talking to Bayley. "Yes," she glares. "You don't have it? Where is it?"

He seemed both frightened with her and cocky about something. "We sent it to Mr. Roth, miss. He's probably got it by now."

Her eyes widen and she throws him down to the floor. "Dammit!" she yells. Of course Roth has it. That meant she was going to have to find him and steal it back.

"Where is he?" she peers down at the Blighter, who was trying to inch away from her. He looks up at her with narrowed eyes.

"I can't tell you!"

She leans down, crouching over him, grabbing him by his throat, their faces inches apart. "And why not?"

He swallows. "He…He'll kill me…"

She tried to ignore the pity in her chest as she watch the spark of terror flicker in his eyes. This man didn't work for money, he worked out of  _fear_. Her words were softer as she loosened her grip on him. "Tell me where he is, and I can assure you a safe life among the Rooks. You'll be paid, fed, and given a home."

His eyes widen and he goes quiet, and she can tell he's considering it. After a moment of him thinking, he gives a shaky nod. "O-Okay. He…" he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "He lives in The Strand. The Alhambra Music Hall. It's where he's set up headquarters."

Evie freezes. The  _Strand_. The  _Alhambra_.

The exact places Jacob told her  _not to go._ The same places she was nearly killed in a gang fight. The same place a mysterious man had saved her.

" _You stay away from my theatre…I can't lose him now, dammit."_

His words echoed in her ears and she frowns, letting go of the Blighter. She offers him a hand and he takes it, if hesitantly. "Head to Waterloo Station and tell the Rooks there Evie Frye sent you. They'll help you," she says softly, and the red dressed man nods, taking off running as quickly as he could.

She stands there for a moment, debating on what to do.

She couldn't just let Roth take the deed, leaving Bayley screwed out of his business.

Closing her eyes, she looks down.

She was going to have to sneak into the Alhambra.

* * *

With Evie suspicious of his actions, he felt a bit paranoid entering the Alhambra through the side door. He finds the window to Roth's office and climbs up to the balcony. The fact that Roth had a balcony built  _just for him,_ sent an unusual fluttering of something unfamiliar in his stomach, but he ignored it as he leaped through. Roth was talking with Lewis, sitting at his desk, while the assistant held a clipboard in his hands.

"He says the shipment will be here the day after tomorrow, sir," Lewis was saying, and Roth smiles, waving him away. He catches sight of Jacob and brightens up immediantly.

"Excellent! You're dismissed for the night, Lewis." Turning his attention to the Assassin, he holds his arms out, welcoming his return. "Jacob, darling! How did it go?"

Jacob watches Lewis shut the door behind him, before turning to smirk at the Blighter leader. "Very well, actually. Turns out Mr. Dredge isn't even a real person."

Roth blinks, giving the other a confused look. "What, now?"

Jacob moves to plop down in the comfortable chair across from Roth's desk, lifting his hat up a bit to see better. "'Dredge' was a disguise used by my good friend Freddy Abberline. He gave me the information nonetheless."

Roth frowns, tapping his fingers on the surface of his desk as he stands there. "Abberline? The officer?"

Jacob shrugs. "I have friends in high places."

The man raises a brow but smiles anyway. "It seems you do, my dear. Aren't you a popular one?"

Jacob smiles as he watches the man grab two glasses from the small bar behind his desk, filling them up with whatever he had sitting there. Honestly Jacob didn't care what Roth fed him— it was all good no matter what.

He takes the glass he's offered and takes a drink, noticing the smooth taste to be wine. Maxwell sits on the desk in front of him, taking in the sight of the Assassin sitting before him. It was such an amusement to see Jacob so relaxed around him. It's what struck him as aweing; Jacob Frye…the bravest man in London.

"You have information," he forces himself to ask, catching the Rook's attention. Jacob looks away from his glass and nods.

"Somewhat, yes. The robbery is happening tomorrow. Freddy will meet me there to give me a way in."

Something about that made Roth frown, and Jacob wondered why. He doesn't have time to ask, as the Blighter speaks up first. "I'll have men inside the bank for you," his voice was a bit gruffer, as if agitated by something. "Use them to your advantage."

Jacob frowns now, not liking the way the man was talking. "Something wrong?"

Roth realizes he must sound like a cod, and forces a smile on his face. "Of course, darling. Nothing to worry about." He just didn't like the sound of Jacob working with someone like Abberline, is all. He was a cop, after all. Definitely not jealously over the fact that he wouldn't be able to be there, working with Jacob.

Definitely not.

Jacob himself doesn't look convinced, but brushes it off anyway. "Should I leave Twopenny your regards?" he jokes, and now Maxwell has to grin.

"As long as you tell me what his face looks like when you do."

The younger of the two grins back, glad to be out of that…odd tension he wasn't sure about. The moment he mentioned Freddy, Roth seemed to get a bit darker.

Deciding to make conversation, he nods his head to the door. "So what kind of delivery are you expecting?"

Roth smiles. Jacob was always so curious about everything, and had a hard time quelling that curiousity until it was answered. "For an upcoming show, darling. Refreshments and sweets for my guests."

Jacob raises a brow, smiling. "How kind of you," he comments.

Roth chuckles, noticing the way Jacob had eyed the chocolate cookies on his desk. "It would be rude of me not to, dear."

Jacob looked from the cookies to him. "What kind of show are you putting on?"

He wondered if Jacob had a sweet tooth. He eyed those cookies again. "That, dear boy is a surprise. Haven't fully finalized everything, yet."

The Rook looked thoughtful, deep green eyes pulling away from those sweets on the table to Roth again. "You plan on inviting me?"

The thespian can't help but laugh. "Ah, Jacob, my dear, you'll get the best seats in the whole theatre!"

He decides to entertain his own curiousity and grabs one of the cookies from the plate, watching Jacob's eyes as he does. "After all," he says, holding the cookie out to the other's mouth. Jacob's eyes widen as he meets Roth's eyes. "…you're the only audience I need."

Jacob opens his mouth as Roth eases the baked good forward, taking a bite of the cookie offered to him. His lips touched Roth's fingers just lightly, but enough to cause him to flinch and the other to notice. Roth grins and, yes it seemed Jacob enjoyed the sugary food, watching his face flush just so slightly. He decides to add fuel to the fire and pulls the desert back, eating the rest of it himself.

Jacob almost choked. Not only did Roth  _feed_  him half a cookie, but he ate the rest of it like it  _wasn't_ in Jacob's  _mouth_. Or maybe that's what he  _wanted_. The thought made the heat in his cheeks flourish darkly and he has to lean back in the chair, tipping his hat down, hoping the blush went unnoticed.

The intimacy of the situation didn't go passed Roth, however, and he adored the sight of the Assassin flustered before him.

Jacob coughs, clearing his throat as he pushes the chair back to stand up. He felt hot, and crowded, and needed some air. Quickly.

"I should get going, anyway," he has to speak over his mumble. His tongue felt heavy, the sweet taste of chocolate lingering on it. "I have quite a day ahead of me, tomorrow."

"Right you are," Roth says, and it's then that Jacob notices the difference in the man's voice when he's talking to him, verses to others. His rough, growling voice always became softer, almost smooth, lower, when he talked to Jacob. The thespian continues as Jacob heads to the window. "Do come see me before you head out tomorrow, my dear. Just to go over some final preparations."

Jacob nods, noticing the dark clouds threatening to unleash a fall of rain. He takes his hat off and collapses it in his hands, tucking it inside his coat. He pulls his hood off, jumping off the balcony to the next building over.

He can't stop thinking about Maxwell Roth. His hands on his lips.

Hell if he ever ate cookies again.

* * *

Evie looks up as her brother swings in the train car, pulling his hood off. Rain dripped down from coat onto the floor, and she takes in the outfit he's wearing for the first time. When did he get  _that_ suit? It seemed too expensive, too formal for his tastes. It was nice, very nice, and she approved, but she was just confused. How long has he had that? Why was she just noticing?

"That's a nicely cut suit," she says aloud, catching his attention. She can't tell if he's blushing or just out of breath from his run in the rain.

He shrugs off his coat and hangs it up to dry, before sitting down on the sofa and putting his feet up on the little stool. He was unusually quiet.

"Something happen?" she asks, and he frowns.

"No, not particularly," was his half answer, and she furrows her brows at him. Putting down the book in her hands on the desk, she turns to walk and lean against the assassination wall across from him. "What did you do today?"

He pulls a throwing knife out of the strap on his left thigh, playing with it in his hands. "Nothing much. Helped Freddy out with some things. How about you?" he looks up at her.

She had thought over what she would say to him if he asked. "Well," she starts slowly, and her brother takes that as a sign that he did something wrong, "I went to Southwark today."

"Did you?" he cocks his head at her, knowing her story was going to go south real quick.

She gives him one of her sarcastic smiles. "Turns out, the Blighters are after Mr. Edward Bayley. They've taken the deed to Attaway Transport and want to force him to work for them."

Jacob takes the message and rolls his eyes. "And I'm sure that's my fault?"

Evie's eyes narrow. "What did you expect? You killed both owners of the two biggest transportation companies in London."

He glares at her. "Oh, sod off it, Evie," he sits up. "I did what I had to do and left it at that. I didn't  _ask_  them to steal the deed."

She frowns at him. "Just try to be more careful—"

" _Careful_ , Evie," he groans exasperatedly, throwing the knife in his hands across the car to hit Starrick's face on the wall behind her, right beside her head. He stands up. "We're  _Assassins._ What else could I have done? Should I have let her live? I certainly didn't  _want_ to kill her, but I had to because she was a bloody Templar." His anger couldn't hide from his words nor his face, and he grabs his hat and puts it on his head. Evie watches with surprise as he grabs his coat as well. "But oh," he continues. "Let's not care about what Jacob feels and just assume everything is  _his_  fault. Sorry I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth and my daddy holding my hand like every other  _normal_  person has," he snaps, before pulling his coat on and stomping through the train.

…and Evie just stands there, mouth open and in shock by his words. She felt anger yet guilt build in her chest, and she has to close her eyes to prevent them from stinging.

He's gone, and she knows that it isn't going to be easy to bring him home.

She slides down the wall, sitting on the ground to put her head in her knees, wrapping her arms around herself. He mentioned their father, again, and she knew it was because she was berating him, again.

" _Oh, so you're taking up where father left off?"_ he had yelled at her when they first arrived in London.

" _Someone has to,"_ she yelled back, and the look on his face…

The pain that flashed across his eyes. The anger that followed. If Henry hadn't intervened, they probably would have killed each other.

She thought of her dream.

' _I can help you,'_

' _You should have helped me when you had the chance.'_

She had to get things settled between them. Their relationship felt as fine as thread, ready to tear at any moment. She's been too hard on him, she tells herself. She takes in a deep breath and looks up at the couch he had been sitting on, ready to go to sleep before she spoke with him.

He was on his way to the nearest pub, hell bent on getting drunk.


	5. Chapter Four - What Money Can't Buy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Leave my brother alone."

**Chapter Four – What Money Can't Buy**

"Jacob, you look terrible!" Roth exclaims as the Assassin rubs his eyes, his hangover cracking at his headache like a hammer.

"Charmed," he mutters dryly, taking the papers the Blighter was handing him. "What's this?"

Maxwell wondered what had gotten Jacob so ticked to go drink himself like this, but knew better than to ask now. They would have time for this later. Jacob usually told him these things, anyway, when he was relaxed with a drink in his hands. "Those, my dear, are the plans to the bank itself." When the boy looks up at him with wide eyes, Roth laughs. "Yes, yes I know! Helpful, is it not?"

"How on Earth did you come by these?" Jacob has to ask, and the older man grins devilishly.

"From the desk of Mr. Starrick himself. Had to bend through a loop or two to get them,  _but_ …" he sings, pointing at the red circle marked on the map. "… _that,_ my dear, is Starrick's  _personal_  safe.  _His_  money."

Jacob slowly looks up at the other, and grins blossom across their faces simultaneously. "What a shame if it were to disappear…" the Assassin plays back, and Roth loves it. Loves the dark gleam in the other's eyes.

"You prefer tragedy over comedy, it seems," the thespian replies. He notices how close they are, standing shoulder to shoulder. Jacob seems to notice too, but doesn't back down from the silent challenge.

"Well, considering my line of work," the Rook grins.

" _Our,_ line of work, my dear," Roth's voice lowers. "People like  _us_ , tend to."

There it was again…that feeling. That fluttering, that twisting in his stomach. The one that rose to his chest and caught his breath in his throat. It felt as if the Blighter was suggesting something. Something that was wrong and dangerous, yet tempting and thrilling.

Maxwell Roth. The devil he chose to dance with.

* * *

Evie sat crouched with her hood up, her eyes locked on the Alhambra.

According to the Blighter that she brought into the Rooks, Maxwell Roth had a meeting with someone for one of his performances at noon. That was her time to strike.

She watches the man leave the side of the Alhambra, and takes in his appearance for the first time. He wore a dark suit, black hair slicked back, and had a rather nasty scar on the right side of his face. Despite the rough mark, he was rather handsome, most likely in his mid-twenties. He jumped into the back of his carraige and another man, a bit shorter than him, took the reigns and they drove off.

She made her move.

There was a balcony towards the top of the Alhambra that had an open window. Swinging herself inside she frowns, taking in the setting of what appeared to be an office. She needed to find the deed, and do so quickly.

She starts with the large desk, opening drawers and ruffling through papers. Contracts, scripts, bounties and more, but no deed. The bottom drawer of his desk was locked, and she made quick work of picking it. Templar papers, regarding the gang leaders he had trained, as well as information about them that went back to their birth. Still no deed.

She checks the entire office, cursing under her breath. Where would he have kept it?

She leaves the office, using her sight to locate any potential guards or threats. None. The theatre was empty except for her. That made her uneasy. Shouldn't he at least have guards? The train was packed with Rooks all the time, as well as every stronghold Jacob got his hands on. Why wouldn't Roth surround himself with Blighters? Did he not fear the Assassins?

She couldn't complain too much, however. It made getting through the theatre fairly easy. Roth's office led out into a hallway with a few bedrooms, a lavatory, dining room, and resting area. It seemed he had built his home into the Alhambra. She checks his room to not find nothing of too much interest. It was made up nicely and didn't seem to be used often. She finds herself following the hallway to a set of stairs, that led directly to the backstage area.

This, was interesting.

There was a large, circular brown table behind large white walls that led to the stage. On it was many items of interest. Glasses and mugs, bottles of wine and whisky, papers with scripts and plays written on them, musical sheets for a piano, an ashtray that looked brand new and never used, and a curious little bird sitting in a cage.

She steps up to the table, frowning at the bird. A crow? The small thing was a baby, tweeting happily at her as she watched it.

A crow…a  _rook._

Her heart leapt in her chest as she looked away from it. Wasn't that the bird in her dream? Her breath is shaky and she doesn't know why. Was her dream somehow connected to Roth? How? Why?

She looks at the bird and studies it carefully. It's beak thinner than a crow's and as she stared at it, she realized that  _yes_ , it was a rook.

Roth owned a rook.

The irony behind it was terrifying.

She shakes her head and forces herself to focus at the task at hand. Ignoring the rook, she begins looking through papers, and…there it is! Grabbing the deed, she nearly smiles.

That is, until the sound of a door opening startles her.

She immediantly dives down behind a nearby set of boxes, her hood up, her eyes narrowed. How long has she been searching? She must have lost track of time…

"…he says he requires more money…" a very monotone voice says.

She watches through a crack in-between the boxes as Maxwell Roth and the assistant from earlier walk in, towards the table. Roth waves his hand at the man, looking through some of the papers on his desk.

"Well," Roth says, and her eyes widen.  _That voice!_ "He'll be dealt with accordingly. We're running low on refreshments, Lewis. I have a celebration to prepare for this evening when our honored guest returns."

Lewis, the assistant, nods and turns, leaving with the sound of a door click.

Evie's pretty sure she isn't breathing.

Maxwell Roth was the one that saved her.

Why?

_Why?_

…and his guest? Was that whoever he had been talking about  _when_  he had saved her?

Roth is frowning as he's going through the papers. Now where was it? Starrick wanted the deed to Attaway Transports and it wasn't where he had left it…

Evie swallows and is glad she's mastered stealth by now. Roth grumbles something under his breath as he turns and heads around the white curtains onto the stage. His footsteps were heard, as well as some cursing, and Evie decides its time to leave…

She begins heading out, making her way to the stairs to get to the window upstairs. That was her best shot, especially if the assistant was still around.

By the time she gets to the top her heart is pounding. She makes her way down the hallway towards the office, and notices something.

The door was closed.

She didn't close it behind her, did she? She uses her vision to see if there's anyone inside, but there isn't. She goes to turn the knob, and it's locked.

' _What?!'_

Then something slams against her skull.

* * *

"Alright, Freddy," Jacob smirks, waltzing up to the police officer where he stood outside the bank. "What's the plan?"

The sergeant sighs, given up on Jacob's obsession with calling him by that name. "Honestly," he starts. "however you get in, I don't want to know."

The Assassin smirks. "Of course, but do you know  _how_ I can get in?"

The man supposes he has no choice. Taking in a deep breath, he motions Jacob closer so he can talk quieter. "The bank is designed to protect England's gold reserves – a fortress guarded under lock and key." He gestures to a man walking out of the vault, stopping to talk with someone. "There is the bank manager, Mr. Osborne. Only  _he_  is allowed free access to the vault. You can spot him near the entrance, and, oh yes: one man keeps a close watch on the vault door – he watches it like a hawk. If he sees you, he's sure to seal it." Jacob nods as Freddy points to another man. "The guard captain, Gus Howard, knows Twopenny well. He is in on this, I'm certain."

The detective turns to face the gang leader, his tone firm. "Mr. Frye,  _please_ , use discretion. The only way to implicate Twopenny is to catch him in the act.  _Do not_ jeopardize him.  _No_ big displays.  _This…_  is the Bank of England."

For once Jacob doesn't make a witty remark, and Abberline takes that as a good sign. "If you run into any trouble," he continues, as he turns to leave, "I'll be in the atrium…in disguise."

Jacob turns his attention to the vault door, as Fredrick runs off.

' _Twopenny won't be leaving that vault.'_

* * *

Her head spun, her body collapsing against the floor with a clap as the weapon that struck her, a bat, hit the floor. She hardly has time to react before she hears the footsteps running towards her.

Not this time, Roth.

Her vision is hazy but she kicks her legs out anyway, tripping the man as he attempts to grab her. She scurries to her feet, turning to see the assistant, Lewis, leaving down a set of stairs on the other side of the hall. Figures. He must have come up the other way when she wasn't paying attention…

She turns back to Roth, who was already on his feet, gun in hand, pointing it at her. Her hidden blade is unsheathed and she stands firm. Ignoring the throbbing in her head, she glares at him.

"Mr. Roth," she greets, her tone cool.

He glares back at her. "And what, may I ask, gave you the right to break into my home and scavenge through my belongings?" His voice was just as stern.

She, has other things in mind. "Why did you save me from you gang?" she needs to know. "Why not let them kill me?"

He lowers the gun but is tense all the same. He scoffs at her, throwing an arm up as if he thought it was ridiculous. "Because I have far more important things to worry about than pesky Assassins showing up in my area."

"Hardly," she argues. "Then why the sudden interest in my brother? Why the invitation?"

He laughs, but his voice holds no amusement. "It's syndicate business between two gang leaders, Ms. Frye. Something I'm sure you wouldn't understand. Your brother could either be a valuable asset, or a dangerous enemy. I'm a man that likes to  _gamble_."

Her eyes widen, before narrowing dangerously. "You'd kill him in the end, whether or not he benefits you. That's how all you Templars are. You use what you can until it doesn't benefit you anymore, then you kill it."

Roth's glare only intensifies. If looks could kill, she would certainly be dead.

"You seem to enjoy assuming things, Ms. Frye," he comments.

She clenches her fist. "I speak only the truth."

He doesn't get a chance to respond before she's charging at him.

* * *

The man huffed as he paced back through the room. Twopenny had better hurry up…

Suddenly he feels someone grab his arm, twisting it around and pinning him against a wall. His eyes widen as he hears a gruff voice in his ear: "Where is Twopenny?"

Howard is terrified, and spills it without a problem. "Please! I have a family! He's in the vault, ogling is priceless paintings!"

Jacob knocks the man out before making his way around the hall, crouched and hood up. He can hear Osborne talking with someone, a man, helping him with his accounts.

"I thank you for your time, good sir. Enjoy the day."

The man he was addressing, a customer, smiled gratefully. "I will let the governor know how helpful you have been when next we dine."

Osborne sees the man off, before turning down the halls…

…straight into Jacob's hold.

His eyes widen as he's pressed up against a bookcase, the Assassin's blade pointed at his neck.

"Please, sir! Don't harm me! I'll assist you!"

Jacob smirks, turning the man around and walking him towards the vault door. "Good. I rather fancy a private tour of the vault."

Osborne swallows nervously. "R-Right this way, sir," he says loud enough for the guards nearby to hear. "The records are stored here."

The men standing around don't seem to notice nor care, and he leads Jacob into the vault entrance. Once down the steps far enough, Jacob knocks him out as well.

Sneaking down the steps, he watches a Templar drop a set of notes, flinching as Twopenny screams at him. "Damn your clumsiness!"

The man swallows. "Sorry, sir. Won't happen again."

The older man huffs loudly as he watches the Templar hurriedly scoop up the pile. "You've got the rest of your life to count it, as long as you live! We will count everything later! We should be nearly finished by now!"

He turns to yell at someone else, and Jacob takes the opportunity to sneak passed them and find the painting room.

He finds the biggest painting he can, hiding between it and the wall.

He got his kukri ready as he heard Twopenny enter the room.

* * *

Evie let out a hiss as her back collided with the wall, their bodies teetering on the edge of the stairs. Their arms were tangled as they fought, Roth surprised with how strong the woman was. She kicks her leg out, her knee colliding with his shin, and he curses loudly, sidestepping in the wrong direction. His foot falls down the steps and so does he, dragging the Assassin along with him. They roll and tumble down the steps, punching and clawing at each other. He manages to get a hold of the hair she had wrapped in a bun, tugging it out of place. She nearly chokes him with the tie he's wearing.

They land on the ground and the force causes them to break apart. They get up as quickly as they fell down, Roth grabbing a nearby plank of wood and swinging it at her. She ducks and grabs her kukri at her waist, slashing forward to try and land a hit. She barely grazes his clothing, causing them to tear but no damage to his person as he steps to the side. He swings the board and it hits her, causing her to tumble to her right and throw her kukri at him.

He moves out of its way, letting it get stuck in the wall behind him. She runs forward and slides down to kick his feet out from under him and it works. She grabs the kukri from the wall and aims it down at him as he falls, and he rolls over just before the blade can meet his face. He grabs ahold of the rug under her feet, yanking it with a huff and causing her to fall backwards. He throws the carpet to the side and grabs for his gun again, shooting it off but missing as she rolls over and to her feet.

She charges forward and tackles him, knocking the wind from him as they stumble backwards into the stack of boxes she had hidden behind before. The wooden crates fall over and they fall into them, her landing on top. He grabs the nearest crate he can find and swings it before her blade can meet his throat, knocking her off of him and to the side with a curse.

He gets up as best as he can, standing on smashed boxes, watching her vault to her feet and attempt to charge him again. Damn, this persistent woman!

He grabs another crate and swings it at her, and she punches through it with the metal knuckles of her gauntlet. It shatters in the air with a crack and he swings a fist forward in retaliation. It knocks her in the shoulder but she returns with a punch of her own; the right hand which wore the damn iron knuckles landing squarely on his jaw.

He spits the blood from his mouth before he grabs her by the forearms and shoves her away, nearly throws her as he uses all the force he has in his body. Her knee hits the floor in a shattering thud and she cries out, before biting down the pain with a curse and side-rolling out of his way when he approaches her.

She grabs her own gun this time and fires, and she hits him in the left arm, near the shoulder. He curses this time, loudly, a hand flying up to the injured spot. She takes that second to stand up and run towards him, tackling him once again…

…but driving them both through the window behind him.

The glass sprayed down on the pavement around them as they hit ground, him pushing her off as soon as it happened. He holds a hand up to his mouth and whistles, loudly, knowing this was his opportunity and her mistake.

She hears the whistle and struggles to get to her feet quickly. Roth is getting up as well, but doesn't look to good either. A group of Blighters were running towards them, and Evie wondered where the hell they came from.

"You best be leaving now," Roth snarls, "or I'll let them kill you this time."

There was a lot of them, for sure. She was hardly in the condition to be fighting to begin with. There was no way she could take all of them without help. She gives the man one last glare.

"Leave my brother alone," is all she says, before shooting her rope launcher and disappearing over a building nearby.

"Mr. Roth, sir!" one of the Blighters call, but he waves him away, storming back into the theatre.

* * *

The look of horror on Twopenny's face is priceless to Jacob, as he removes his blade from his throat, his anger at the man getting the best of him as he lays him down to die.

"You've stolen your last shilling from the people of London," he glowers at him. Twopenny wheezes, coughing on his own blood.

"Those animals squander their savings!" he yells out. "We are the experts in investments. Nothing would be built, or improved. Nothing would rise above the muck without our hand guiding – no, creating – the future!" His voice was getting more choked as he spoke. "They benefit as much as they're worth."

Jacob felt his patience snap. "It is their city, not yours!"

Twopenny lets his head fall down, the last of his life draining with his words. "Without our investments, there would be no city."

Jacob watches the man die, his anger settled into a familiar calm with the death of another Templar. He tosses a coin into the dead man's hand, his voice a growl. "For the path of the dead."

With the swipe of his handkerchief, he turns and goes to make his way out, then remembers there's one last thing he needs to do.

* * *

He split Starrick's money fifty-fifty. It only seemed fair, to him, that Roth get the other half. He had dropped off half of the money to his Rooks before having the Blighters at the Alhambra unload it to Roth's safe. They were in awe, and it was funny to watch their faces as they did it.

Entering Roth's office feeling quite good about himself, he notices the rival gang leader at his desk, going over some papers. The moment Roth looks up, however, Jacob's smile fades.

"Good, gods what happened to  _you?!"_ he exclaims. Maxwell Roth looked as if he had gone back to his boxing career. He had a black eye, thick bandage around his shoulder, his hair was ruffled and looked as if the man had tried to fight it back into place… His clothes were ragged and his waistcoat was removed. He only wore a loose white shirt instead of his normally clean suit. It was also then that Jacob noticed Roth was actually quite well-built. Without his body hiding under all the formal wear you could actually see the muscles and the lean form in his structure. It took everything in Jacob's power not to stare.

Roth brushes off his question and smiles all the same. "Nothing extreme, darling, just a bit of a fight with someone I happened to run into today." He changes the subject quickly, leaning back in his chair and offering Jacob a seat. "I'm more than curious as to how  _your_  day went."

Jacob isn't exactly happy with the man's answer, but he figures he could ask later and sits, more than happy to discuss his mission at the bank.

"Well, for starters, Twopenny's dead," he smirks when Roth does, and continues. "Your men came in handy emptying Starrick's vault. Half of it may or may not be in your safe downstairs."

The thespian laughs, standing to his feet excitedly. "Jacob my dear, you have just destroyed a part of Starrick you can't even begin to fathom!" He turns and heads to his bar, and Jacob feels giddy. Giddy because Roth was happy with him. Because he did something and someone wasn't yelling at him about it. Roth appreciated him. Roth understood him. He stands up and joins the other at the bar, watching him pop open and pour two large glasses of what looked to be a very expensive champagne. He takes the cup he's offered, clinking it against Roth's when the man holds it up.

"A toast," the Blighter exclaims, "to you, Jacob dear, and another victory against our soon to be  _fallen_  Grand Master!"

The Assassin wasn't sure of what made him warmer; the alcohol or the man in front of him, more intoxicating than any liquor could be.

* * *

It was too strong of a coincidence that Evie looked just as bad as Roth. Her hair was down and she was fiercely brushing through it, angrily slamming the brush down as she attempted to braid her hair on her own.

"Evie?"

The sound of his careful voice made her freeze, turning to look at him with wide, worried eyes. "Jacob!" she exclaims, jumping out of her chair to wrap her arms around him tightly.

Something was very wrong.

Evie hasn't hugged him in  _years._ The last time she hugged him was at their grandmother's funeral when they were six. Evidently it was also the first. She's shaking in his arms and he wonders what kind of invention Bell must have tested on her, or if she accidentally got a taste of Soothing Syrup. Then he notices her injuries, and worry immediantly crossed his features.

"Who do I have to kill?" he asks softly, but firmly, his arms wrapping around her.

She closes her eyes and just lets the moment happen. She had completely forgotten how…nice this was. This physical contact. This love. This protection. Just being with her brother and letting her emotions out for once. Their father had always been strict against letting their emotions control them, but she just couldn't help it.

The entire time she had waited for Jacob to return to the train, she thought about their fight that previous night. Then her dream. Then the rook in the Alhambra. Then her fight with Roth. She was fearful that if she continued to push Jacob away, he  _would_  go and accept Roth's offer…if he hasn't already.

"I'm sorry I've been such a tit to you, Jacob," she says quietly. His eyes widen as she continues. "I miss you."

He pulls her over to the couch, slowly, not wanting to break the hold they had on each other. He sits them down and she curls up against him, and he buries his face into her hair, closing his eyes. "And I'm sorry I've been such an ass," he tries to chuckle.

She tries to as well, and they sit together, for who knew how long, just enjoying the rare moment of comfort between them. This was the first time they had gotten this close to each other in years, and they didn't want to ruin it.

"What happened to you?" he asks quietly. She sighs, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I went to get the deed back. Ran into a lot more trouble than I was expecting," she doesn't exactly lie. She can't tell him about Roth.

He chuckles and takes it. "So much for a plan, eh?"

She rolls her eyes, but smiles. "You've always been better at improvising."

Jacob's brows fly up. "So Evie's twin brother actually has a skill that she  _doesn't_? Whom would have thought?"

She gives a light punch to his arm, smiling. "Don't get cocky, now."

He chuckles and leans back against the arm of the couch, his sister still in his arms. "So why the sudden epiphany?"

She pulls back, just slightly, enough to meet his eyes. "I've just…been thinking things through. I believe that if we are to take back this city, we have a better chance at doing it, together."

He tilts his head at her, the same way he had done the night before, before they fought. "It's not like our methods exactly  _work_ together, Evie."

"Whether they do or not doesn't matter," she says quietly. "We shouldn't be at each other's throats like we have been."

His lips pull up in a lopsided smile. "We're not exactly A-Class siblings, are we?"

She smiles and brushes the hair from his face. He refused to get a haircut. "No, we're not, but we don't have to be."

He reaches up and takes her hand in his own, and they just  _sit_  there, feeling the sibling bond they should always have, for the first time in more years than they could remember.

"I missed you," he responds to her earlier statement, his voice heavy with emotions she knew he was struggling to keep in. Knowing because she herself was fighting that same inner battle.

"Fresh start?" she offers, smirking to prevent herself from accidentally crying. He smirks back and rests his forehead against hers.

"Fresh start. Now let's fix up your hair, before Greenie sees you in such a mess."

" _Jacob!"_


	6. Chapter Five: Sweet n' Sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob and Roth rob a bakery. Evie fixes the bank.

**Chapter Five – Sweet n' Sour**

Jacob frowns as he opens the side door of the Alhambra, wondering why the window to Roth's office was closed. That window was  _always_  left open, particularly for the Assassin. He nearly bumps into Lewis as he walks in, the doorman giving him a blank look before heading outside. Not dwelling on it, Jacob turns and heads to the backstage, where he found Roth throwing his coat on, fixing his tie. The Blighter looks up, smiling as he walks up to greet him.

"Ah! Jacob! I have something special planned for us today!" he exclaims loud and proud, and the Assassin smiles. Roth's excitement was contagious.

"Have you?" he asks, his curiousity evident in his eyes. The thespian motions for the Rook to follow him as he heads to the back door.

"We have some revenge to get!"

* * *

"Highway robbery! That's what it is!"

"Move away, or I'll knick you for insulting an officer!"

"Oi! You can't keep us down no more!"

"How much are our lives worth to you?!"

"Move on, or you'll get in trouble!"

"No more exploitation! No more slashed wages!"

Evie runs forward, grabbing the arm of the sergeant that looked as if he were about to have a panic attack. The crowd of people behind them were only getting louder, the policemen worried they would have to resort to drastic measures.

"What has  _happened_?" the Assassin exclaims as she pulls Abberline away from the mess. He shakes his head and nearly curses.

"Your  _brother!"_

Figures, Evie can only think dreadfully. Just after the two had made up…

"What has he done now?" she doesn't really want to know.

The cop looks nervously at the crowd of protesters. "The newspapers are all over Twopenny's murder, and, if that weren't enough,  _someone_ has stolen the currency printing plates. Was that also Jacob's doing?"

Evie's eyes widen. She had seen Jacob hang up a picture of Philip Twopenny on the assassination wall, before crossing a red x over it. She knew he was the governor of the Bank of England, but didn't know he was a Templar.

"I doubt it," she answers the officer, watching him sweat anxiously with stress.

"Now, no one trusts the bank, or England's currency. There…" he stammers, "there will be inflation. Riots. Manufacturing will jump to America for the cheap labor. In short…" his voice nearly cracks, "Britain, is done for."

Evie closes her eyes, looking down. She was sure it wouldn't get  _that_ drastic, but  _still_. ' _Jacob, you've really put your foot in it now…'_ Why did she always have to go and clean up his mistakes?

Thinking quickly, she goes over what Abberline had explained to her. There was nothing she could do to ease the fray of Twopenny's murder, but…

"What if…" she starts slowly, thinking aloud. "…I smuggled the plates back into the bank?"

Freddy blinks, thinking it over. "Well, it would certainly help… Better yet…" he seems a bit calmer now, "it would call into question the stories on Twopenny's murder…which would restore confidence in the economy…"

Evie smiles, glad to have thought of something. "That's settled, then. Britain lives to see another day."

Abberline holds up a hand before she can take off, giving her a pleading look. "Oh, and if it's not too much trouble, would you mind destroying any counterfeit notes you come across so they don't circulate?"

She can't help but feel a bit bad about burning money, but, she smiles and nods all the same. "Of course."

* * *

"Mr. Green?"

The Assassin turns quickly, surprised by the sight of Ned Wynert enter the train car. "Mr. Wynert," he greets back. "What brings you here?"

The American turns and motions for someone to join him, and to Green's surprise, it's a child: a girl of maybe seven or eight.

He looks up at Ned questioningly, before the man explains. "She witnessed what happened at Cockham Merchants. She's got info for you."

"Really?" Henry kneels down in front of the girl. She looks a bit shaken, but quite proud of herself. "What did you see?"

The girl plays with the cuffs of her sleeves. "I saw Mr. Frye gather up some o' the Rooks and take 'em inside the warehouse. He talked to the Blighters there and they listened to 'im, too."

Henry's eyes widen. "Did he threaten them?"

The girl shakes her head. "No, not that I could hear. He waved 'em over and they followed his orders without a fight."

The Assassin looks up at Wynert with a sense of concern. "You think they may have been Rooks in disguise?"

The older man frowns. "It's possible, but highly unlikely."

Henry looks back at the girl. "What else did you see?"

She frowns. "After they blew up the warehouse an' boat, Mr. Frye joined some strange man in a carraige and they drove off."

"Tell him what he looks like," Ned says to the child. Her brows furrow slightly.

"It was hard to see, but he had black hair an' wore a black suit."

Green sits back, taking in this description. He looks up at Ned and they share a frown. "It could be anyone," he tries. "We don't have enough information to confirm that it was  _him_."

Ned shrugs. "I don't know. If it is Roth, we should probably look into it, right?"

Henry stands to his feet, thanking the child before addressing Ned. "I'll start to see if I can figure out what's going on. I highly recommend that we keep this to ourselves."

"You mean don't tell Evie," Wynert raises a brow. "I'll have some of my spies poke around."

Green nods. "As will I."

* * *

Jacob knew Roth was crazy;  _that_  he had learned quickly. What he didn't fathom, was how crazy he actually was.

Because he was bloody  _insane_.

The Assassin holds up a hand to his face, pinching the skin between his eyes. "So…we're  _robbing_  a  _bakery_?"

Roth grins at the tone Jacob was making. "Despite what you may think, my dear, this is a matter of upmost importance."

Jacob drops his hand and looks over at the man, smirking as he tried to contain his amusement. "What  _I_ think, is you just needed an excuse to have me over."

The man laughs, putting a hand on his chest. "I've been caught!" he jokes, before nodding towards the bakery and the factory behind it. "On a more serious note- the bastard had this coming. He stole my money and canceled my order. I can't properly cater my guests without desserts, now can I?"

Jacob only grins, shaking his head at the oddity of the situation. "Dessert  _is_ the best part of any occasion," he agrees, watching Roth grin back. "I'm in."

Roth beams. "Perfect! Let's get down to business!"

He points to the front doors of the bakery. "That is only his shop. I want to destroy the place completely. Not entirely blow it up, but cause quite the disaster." Jacob smirks as Roth points to the factory. "Then we're going to the factory and storage and taking everything, finding my money, and then…"

"…we blow it up?" Jacob can't stop himself from chuckling now, and Roth laughs in turn.

"Something a little more exciting this time, my dear. You will not be disappointed."

The Rook turns his attention back to the factory. "Alright then… Lead on."

Roth is ecstatic to hear the eagerness in his Assassin's voice. Pleasing Jacob was easy when he enjoyed the same chaos as he did.

The two climb over the roof of the building they stood on, Roth whistling for a nearby group of Blighters to make their move. The group runs to the shop, smashing the windows to get in and knocking over the displays of pies and cakes as they did. Roth ironically grabs the door and holds it open for Jacob, who laughs and compliments him as being quite the gentlemen.

They enter the shop and Jacob pulls out his cane sword, swiping at a nearby glass jar full of handmade candies, letting the jar shatter and scatter glass and sweets across the tile floor. Roth grins and leads the Assassin through the back, towards the factory. The Blighters could be heard tearing up the shop, and more came to join them as they smashed the door to the factory down. They enter and look around, Jacob in slight awe. Machines that seemed fresh and shiny new that frosted and baked, decorated and packaged, filled the factory across the one floor. It was also a bit disturbing; all these machines replacing people as of late…

"Where to start?" he asks to his left, where Roth steps up beside him. The man gestures towards the back of the factory.

"I want to know what he did with my money, first."

* * *

"It is really good of you to help," Abberline says as he leads Evie through the crowd of people towards the exchange, where the counterfeit money was being spent. "As much as I appreciated Jacob stopping the robbery, I didn't expect  _this_ to come out of it."

"Robbery?" Evie asks, wondering what the whole story was.

The officer turns to give her a slightly puzzled look. "You don't know?"

She shakes her head. "Not the whole story, no. I knew Jacob took out Twopenny but I didn't know what happened around it."

Freddy takes in a deep breath, pulling Evie over to the side where they can talk privately. "Twopenny was robbing the Bank of England. I don't know how Jacob was able to find out, or who the contact is that gave him that information, but he came to me looking for how he could get in the bank to stop the robbery."

Evie's eyes widen. "His contact?" Freddy nods.

"Yes, and whoever it was also helped him blow up the entirety of Cockham Merchants. The whole lot burned to the ground."

So  _he was_  behind the Cockham Merchants disaster. She should have known. She saw the aftermath of the scene when she took a stroll over there. The place was burnt to the ground and there was still police borders all around it. "What else?" she prods, wanting to know more.

The bearded man takes his hat off and rubs his hand through his hair. "I helped Jacob get into the bank, but not to  _kill_ Twopenny. He took off before I could even question what had happened. Why on Earth would he  _do_ that?"

It dawned on Evie that Freddy didn't have a full understanding about the Assassins and Templars. He knew she and Jacob were a part of some kind of secret order, but never questioned them about it. She supposed she owed some sort of explanation.

"Mr. Abberline," she says, "Twopenny was…a part of the group of people like Crawford Starrick that are trying to control London and take over the world. There are people like them across the world and my brother, Henry Green, and myself, are part of a group of people trying to take them down."

The police officer closes his eyes, taking this in. "I knew you were a part of some kind of…cult, but is it that serious?" He looks at her questioningly. "How long has this been going on?"

She gives him a weak smile. "For longer than you can imagine, Mr. Abberline. Our organizations have gone all the way back to ancient Egypt and have lasted through the centuries."

The cop looks dumbfounded. "So it isn't all Jacob's fault, then," he seems to think out loud. "He would have killed Twopenny no matter what?"

…and that takes Evie a moment to process. Yes, it wasn't  _exactly_ Jacob's fault the plates were stolen. He just did his mission and left.

She was glad Abberline said it, otherwise she wouldn't have thought so open-minded about it. She had to come to terms with making mistakes, although…

"Yes and no," her voice lowers. "He could have gone about it in a more reasonable manner. His recklessness is a problem we've been dealing with since we were children. There was no reason for him to blow up an entire warehouse or cause a scene."

The cop scoffs, looking away at the crowd of people. "I'm still more than curious with whom it was that tipped off that information to him. I was struggling myself with simply rumors, and then he shows up telling me about the robbery and…"

Evie frowns again, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I've…been trying to figure that out as well. This isn't the first time he's received information from someone about things like this."

The officer frowns. "I just hope it's settled soon. The mess they caused at Cockham was  _absolutely_   _insane_."

The female nods, holding up her hands. "I promise you I will try to have a word with him about it. Now, I should go and find those counterfeiters before they take off."

The detective nods. "Yes of course. I have the utmost faith in you, Ms. Frye."

* * *

"How nice of him to leave it here, instead of taking it all to, I don't know, anywhere else?" Jacob jokes as Roth opens the safe and holds out a roll of money.

"It appears I'm not the first one to be deceived here," he replies, stepping aside for Jacob to see the contents of the safe. The Assassin's jaw dropped.

"Why does he leave it all here?!" but he sounds more than happy with it, and Roth takes a moment to appreciate the childlike joy on the gang leader's face.

"Well, it's  _ours_  now, darling," he jumps up, waving over a few Blighters to gather the money out. He asks one of them if the carraige was packed yet and they responded that, yes it was.

"Perfect! Now," the thespian smiles, patting Jacob on the back to urge him to follow. "We're going to tear this place apart!"

* * *

' _The counterfeiters…'_

She watches the group of three walk out of the exchange, listening to their conversation as she stalked them.

"Heard about the rioting at the bank?" the first Blighter asks. The second one scoffs.

"They can riot all they like. We won't be giving back those plates."

The first one shrugs. "What difference does it make? It's not like he has any real cash on him."

The second one frowns. "Since we've got the printing plates, it's all real cash."

Evie rolls her eyes. They gave themselves away far too carelessly.

The man they were escorting hops into his carraige, motioning for the driver to take off. Evie quickly finds the nearest carraige and follows them slowly, her second vision and hearing allowing her to pry on their conversation.

The driver gives the man sitting next to him an odd stare. "Have you seen the papers today?"

The counterfeiter waves him away. "You mean about Twopenny's murder? Yes, a terrible shame, but…it worked out for us, didn't it?"

The driver frowns. "You're not worried that the police will be asking after you? Someone might've seen you going into the bank."

The counterfeiter laughs it off. "My good man, you're not worried, are you? Let your conscience be at ease. I am not responsible for Twopenny's death. I merely took advantage of a… fortuitous situation. If Scotland Yard comes nosing around, I was at that bank on business, and you know nothing else about it. I'll see you're given double your salary for your trouble."

The driver mutters under his breath: "Paid in your counterfeit bills, no doubt."

The man gives him a narrowed look. "I didn't quite catch that?"

The driver immediantly clears his throat. "Nothing at all, sir."

They arrive at an old apartment complex and Evie watches as he leaves the carraige. "Keep your eyes open! Anyone can be trying to get in," he orders around, yelling at everyone he walks by.

Evie creeps around the building, spotting a Blighter guarding the front door, leaning against the frame. He was a large brute, but not a problem for her. She whistles at him from around the corner, and he looks up, looking around. She whistles again and he turns his attention to the corner, frowning. A third whistle was all it took to get him to start slowly walking over. A fourth whistle had him walking a bit faster, right around the corner into her hidden blade. A few passerby's called out in shock and fright and took off running. Ignoring them, she lays the Blighter down and makes her way to the door. There was two of them inside not facing her. That worked fine. She ran up and killed them both instantly.

Someone coming down the stairs yelled out as he caught sight of her. "Hey! We have an intruder!" he calls out, and she throws a knife right at his head. He collapses just as two Blighters upstairs come running down, two in from outside in the back. She close lines the two running towards her from the stairs, slashing at the first one with her hidden blade, before turning to get the other one. The other two running up behind her get to meet her kukri, just as she turns around and slashes it at them.

She lets out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in, taking a moment to calm down before she put her weapon away. She trudges up the steps and finds not only the counterfeit money but the plates as well. She burns the money and takes the plates, her destination the Bank of England.

* * *

Whose idea was it to drive a bus through the factory? Jacob had no idea, but it was funny either way. One of the Blighters smashed open a tank of chocolate, so now that was all over the floor (and it was great to watch them slip on it at times). They were currently at work trying to bust open a whip cream dispenser, but not with their guns. They wanted to  _break_  it open. Someone finds an axe and swings it, causing a small explosion of white cream.

It was the weirdest mission Jacob had ever gone on. It had a meaning, though. He would be pissed if someone cheated him out of an order. He'd probably break into their factory and destroy everything inside, too.

It's hilarious to watch Roth give orders while covered in whipped cream. He looked so serious yet ridiculous at the same time. He himself was trying to brush off the whip cream from his clothes but failed by smearing it instead.

By the time they left the factory, it looked as if a tornado had run through the place.

* * *

Abberline wants to hug Evie in relief but restrains himself from doing so. "Well," he says instead as she runs up to greet him outside the bank, "the London papers are running a story about how it was all a hoax. No more riots! Faith in the bank restored!" He smiles as she does. "Finally I might get a quiet night on patrol. Ms. Frye, I can't thank you enough."

"Glad we've averted catastrophe, Sergeant, although," she pauses, frowning, "it's Jacob who should be thanking me."

The policeman frowns at her, before looking away towards the bank. "I…" he starts, "understand you and your brother are indeed working for the greater good, however…" he turns and looks back at her. "If it isn't too much to ask, if you could find out who his contact is, I would ever be so grateful…"

Evie gives the cop a worried look. "You're really worried about it, aren't you?"

Freddy sighs. "I am," he admits. "Whoever it is, is getting the information before we are, and that usually means its someone from  _their_ side."

The Assassin raises both brows. "You think Jacob's working with someone that also works with Starrick?"

Abberline nods, grimly. "I would hate to think it, but…" he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I've been in this for many years now, Ms. Frye. I know what it's like when a person is working on both sides to betray the other. If your brother is being played…"

He doesn't even have to finish. Evie closes her eyes and nods, looking down. "I understand what you're implying," she answers slowly. "I've had the same thoughts, and I have my suspicions." She meets his gaze. "If I find anything out, I will talk with you."

He smiles, but its shaky and uncertain. "Thank you, Ms. Frye. Your brother is a good man. I would hate to see anything happen to him."

* * *

The two are laughing like children as they enter the Alhambra. It was the first time in years either of them had felt the joy and need to laugh as they were, stumbling in the side doors covered in chocolates and creams. Roth waltzes over to a cupboard to grab some glasses and drinks, while Jacob stops himself from sitting on the sofa with as sticky as he was.

The older of the two turns and places two mugs on the table, while Jacob looks around. The place was a bit messier than usual, he noticed. A large stack of wooden boxes and crates were all pushed against the wall, broken and smashed. A window nearby was shattered.

Before he can ask, Roth catches his attention by clapping him on the shoulder, throwing a mug into his hands. The Assassin immediantly forgets his question and grins instead as the Blighter clinks their glasses together. "A toast, to another successful outing!"

The Rook laughs and drinks to that, before turning to watch through the broken window as red gang members unloaded the carraige full of sweets. "I'd say so," he agrees. "I have to admit, that was the most interesting heist I've ever gone on."

Roth laughs again. "But the most entertaining, was it not?"

Jacob looks back at him with a smile. "Indeed it was, although," he points to the other's appearance. "You look quite ridiculous."

The man grins and raises a brow. "You're looking quite dashing yourself, darling," he comments back, and Jacob grabs the hat from his head, turning it around in his hands. A tuff of white cream stuck to the side of it like a bow.

Wiping it off, he grins. "This is why I don't wear expensive clothing," he looks up at Roth, feeling his face heat up for reasons he couldn't understand. He felt a bit bad… Maxwell  _did_  make this outfit for him.

There was a sly glint in Roth's eyes that the Rook had a hard time deciphering. It was the kind of look that said trouble, but teasing. "My dear," he starts, and suddenly the Assassin felt as if the other was standing too close, nearly shoulder to shoulder. "I wouldn't care if you tore the clothes to shreds;" he lifts a hand and wipes his thumb across the Assassin's nose, wiping off a spot of whip cream, watching the younger's eyes widen. "You would still look enticing nonetheless." He licks the cream off his thumb and an explosion of heat blossomed across Jacob's face.

Turning, flustered, he puts his hat quickly back on, hoping it's hiding the red in his cheeks. His tongue felt heavy and words seemed to become lodged in his throat. Whatever it was about Roth, whatever these feelings were, was throwing his head through a spiraling loop and tying him up to the point he was becoming tangled. He clears his throat just as Roth starts talking again, pulling away to pick something off the round table – a small stack of papers.

"I have plans for us for tomorrow," he starts, going through the first few pages in his hands. "Come see me in the morning. You will be very pleased."

Jacob swallows the lump in his throat, nodding as he takes a gulp of his drink – god knows he needs it – watching as the man turns and walks back to him. "What do you have planned?" he has a feeling Roth isn't going to answer.

He doesn't, just grins some more. "Can't ruin the surprise for you, darling. Besides, I need the night to get some information, first. I will have everything fully ready for you when you arrive."

Jacob shrugs, feeling a bit cooler, although the man's words and actions left a burn on him he was sure would scar. "I suppose I should be getting back to the train anyway…" he finishes his drink, putting the glass down on the table.

Roth chuckles. "Care to stay for a bath?"

Jacob nearly chokes. Yes, he was a mess, but  _still_ … The way the Blighter said it sounded far more… _suggestive_ then he could handle. It was almost as if he was inviting him to—

"No…thank you," he forces himself to spit out, while trying to keep a smirk on his face to not let himself be seen so shaken. "I'll jump in the Thames."

Roth laughs but doesn't push it. "Do as you wish, my dear… Just know my doors are always open."

The sincerity in his voice was too much.

Jacob couldn't get out of there fast enough.

* * *

She hears the thud of his boots as he lands on top of the train, listening to him walk towards the back of the car to swing himself down in and inside from the roof. He dusts himself off and looks up as she walks up to him.

"Evie?" he greets hesitantly. She looks irritated, which means their short lived moment of companionship was over.

She crosses her arms as she studies him carefully. His hair was wet and his clothes were damp, as if he had been swimming in the river or rained on. Since it hasn't rained all day, she suspected the former. "The mess you caused," she starts slowly. "At the bank."

His mouth forms an o, before he shrugs and throws his hat on top of the safe in front of him. "Where'd you learn of this?"

Her glare is as menacing as a wall of daggers. "Sergeant Abberline. Apparently, during the fray of your actions, someone stole the currency printing plates."

Jacob shrugs again, as if it weren't a big deal…at least…to him it  _wasn't_. "And?" he asks. "I suppose that's my fault?"

She rolls her eyes and looks up, silently praying for her father's guidance. "Jacob, you  _must_ be more careful. You shouldn't have caused such a scene."

He snaps, turning to glare back at her. "You seriously cannot be blaming me for someone else's actions. Maybe I should have warned Freddy, it wasn't fair to him, but I needed to stop the robbery and take him down. What else could I have done?!"

Her eyes narrow. "You blew up a warehouse!"

He throws his arms up, turning away from her. "That warehouse was filled with the weapons they were going to use at the bank. I stopped them."

"You could have done it another way!" her voice rises, taking a step forward as he turns to scowl at her. "People could have gotten hurt!"

"You really think I'm that stupid to not check if there  _was_  any innocent people in there?!" he yells back. "Goddammit, Evie, I'm not  _senseless_!"

"You're  _reckless_! You act in haste and never repent on your actions, nor think about the consequences of them!" She was getting louder, her voice threatening to crack. "Father was right about you!"

…and it always goes back to their father.

His eyes darken, as he throws his hat on the ground. "Oh, this again! What, Evie?! What was he so right about?!" Before she can even think of an answer, he continues. "Was it that I could never be an Assassin? Or was it that I would never rise to  _your_  level?" he sounds choked, every word laced with anger and sadness. "Or that you should have  _disowned_  me like  _he did?!"_

His words sting her in the way a scorpion's tail would.

"Jacob," a third voice interrupts their argument, and the twins turn to see Henry slowly enter the train car, holding up something for the younger of the two. "There's a package here for you."

Jacob takes that as his excuse to leave. He reaches down and snatches his hat from the floor, before grabbing the heavy package from the Indian's arms and storming into the next train car, the door slamming behind him.

It's silent for a minute, as Evie catches her breath and Henry turns to face her.

"I, in all my years of life," he starts quietly, "have never seen any two people argue the way you do."

She closes her eyes.

She blew it,  _again_.

* * *

_Wash before you wear the new outfit, dear._

That's what the note attached to said outfit said, and Jacob flushes, grinning. Of course Roth would send him new clothes. This outfit seemed to be just as fine material but the style was a little more freeform. A little more  _Jacob Frye._ The suit was a deep green leather, with a brown shawl over the shoulders. A brown plate on the side of the left shoulder bared the Assassin's symbol, while the jacket itself was long down to his boots. New boots, brown, and a new shirt and vest to match. He really liked the outfit, and, it even came with another hat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob's Master Assassin outfit, but green. I like their outfits in green. It makes them look like Rook leaders.


	7. Unlikely Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triple Theft, Ned and Freddy, and Evie makes a new friend...kind of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (From Fanfiction.net)
> 
> I actually have had this written for a while now, almost since I've posted the previous chapter. The reason I never posted it was because I wasn't sure about adding stuff to it or not. I've decided to take what I wanted in this chapter and add it to Chapter Seven. Chapter Seven is halfway done. I'll hopefully be getting that updated soon enough. I have four new stories on the way that I've been working on, two Sonic the Hedgehog, one Assassin's Creed Syndicate, and one Assassin's Creed Rogue. I'm also trying to get my other stories updated. Updates will most likely be slow, but I'm getting there. I have to finish uploading my stories to both Archive of Our Own and DeviantART, so that will take some time as well. I hope to have all three sites updated as soon as I can manage. I thank you for your understanding and patience, as well as your support. You guys are amazing.
> 
> -Anonymoux

**Chapter Six – Unlikely Alliances**

He was confused as to why the window on the balcony was still closed. It was like Roth expected someone to break in…. Then again, it did look like someone broke in on the ground floor.

He takes the side door because he has no other choice, heading through the backstage area to Roth. The thespian was feeding the rook in the cage on his desk, oblivious until he heard Jacob's boots on the wooden floor. The man's face lightened up immediantly, instant like a switch, his green eyes brightened and a smile spreading across his scarred face. "Ah, Jacob!" he greets excitedly. "Everything is set!"

The Assassin tilts his head slightly as he walks up to the table. "Are you going to tell me now?" he questions with a smirk. Roth loved surprises and Jacob was too impatient for them.

The man grins. "I suppose I can't keep it from you forever." He holds up a hand, moving like an actor on stage. "Three, of Starrick's henchmen, are about to disappear!"

This, is what Jacob has been waiting to hear. Another large blow against the Grand Master that would surely devastate him. He grins back, taking a step forward. "You sly devil."

The excited growl in Jacob's voice is enough to set Roth on fire. It gives him a burst of energy that gets him to walk forward, grabbing the Assassin by the arm, ready to drag him to the door. "Oh, and I'm coming along with you this time," he taps the other's chest, before pulling him along. "There's no sense in giving you all the glory."

Jacob smiles as Roth calls out for Lewis, who already had the carraige ready.

Roth never let go of his arm as they walked to the carraige, and Jacob felt a nice warmth from it.

* * *

Evie frowns as she flips through the papers on the desk. She and Henry had started looking into the key for the Shroud as early as morning would allow them to. They weren't having any luck so far and she was only becoming more anxious and frustrated as the time passed. Days have passed since Thorne had gotten her hands on the key; for all the Assassin knew she could have the Shroud by now.

No, she tells herself. The Templars would have come after them if they had the Shroud.

"What good is a key if you don't know what lock it opens?" she thinks aloud in slight spite, flipping through more pages of the book she took from Kenway's mansion. Henry shrugs it off, turning a paper over in his hands.

"I dare say Ms. Thorne is in the same predicament."

"Henry!" Evie exclaims suddenly, before realizing how improper that was as she waves him over. "Mr. Green here, this is it." She points to a picture of the key in the book, as he steps over to peer over her shoulder. Having him this close reminded her of Jacob's snide comment when she had gone to the Monument.

He felt a bit surprised yet happy to hear her call him by his first name, but forced his focus away from it as he looked at the book. "This matches a casket owned by the Queen," he realizes. "Kept in… the Tower of London."

Evie turns to look at him, frowning. "It's a fortress. I don't suppose you have any friends there…?"

Henry feels himself smirk at her tone. "A guardsman. If you can…find him once you're inside…"

Evie smiles brightly, grabbing the page from the book before turning to leave. "I'll talk to you again when I have the Shroud. Thank you for your help!"

He watches her run towards the exit of the train, feeling fuzzy from her words. "Right, yes. Good luck…Evie."

* * *

"Holy shit!" the American exclaims as the door is kicked down. His spies and borrowed Rooks cried out in shock and held up their guns, aiming at the intruders.

Cops. Lots of them.

They seemed to have swarm the outside of the building, completely surrounding it. Ned Wynert would have been flattered, but he had work to do, dammit! He didn't have time to be arrested,  _again._

"Keep your hands up!" one of the officers exclaimed, and the Rooks turned to give Ned questioning looks. Do they fight? Surrender? The small man looks over at his spies, who were frightened beyond belief, shaking where they stood. They weren't prepared to fight…and he couldn't risk their lives…

"Ah, screw it all…" he mutters and motions for the green gang members to stand down. They look frustrated with him but do as they're told, knowing Jacob would have their asses if they refused an order from their employer. Ned turns his attention to the rozzers quickly entering the room, holding his hands above his head.

"Alright, alright, calm down. You can take me, but leave these guys out of it," he attempts to negotiate. Fortunately for him, it appeared that's what the cops were trying to do anyway. Unfortunately he was being arrested.

Again.

* * *

"These cowardly fools under Starrick, have built their own prisons," Roth was explaining as they made their way to the first hideout. "It's a dreadful waste."

Jacob hums. "They could be building gangs instead?"

The man shakes his head. "No, no! Why build, when you can ebb and flow like the sea? I would not deign to pin them down."

The Assassin raises a brow, turning the carraige down another street. "Oh, you wouldn't, would you? What about your bird?" He knew Roth loved his bird as much as he did his freedom.

The Blighter gives him a smile, one that was warm. "It's not building anything. It just is, my dear."

As they pull the carraige up to their first destination, Roth waves Jacob's attention to the large building. "I dare say I shall never tire of the National Gallery."

The Rook frowns, stopping the carraige beside a small road that went behind the building. "Why does Starrick interest himself with art?" Why did anybody, he thought quietly to himself.

Roth holds up a hand as if to halt the other. "He's hired fiendishly talented woman, one Hattie Cadwallader, to procure works for him. She has excellent taste."

Jacob slowly turns his head to give the man a questioning look. "We're kidnapping her for the sin of being Starrick's collector?"

Roth chuckles. "Oh my dear, no. We're kidnapping her, not because she loves art, but because she finances Starrick's enterprises with it. One must never mix art and money."

Jacob shrugs, noting to not mention how he's stolen a bit of art himself for Ned Wynert, earning himself a very decent amount of pay in return. He hops out of the carraige, turning to look back at Roth. "Bring your carraige around and wait for the cargo. I shan't be very long."

"Excellent. Oh, do be careful, my dear. When a deal falls through Ms. Cadwallader tends to poison future sales."

He wasn't sure if Roth was joking or actually concerned.

He takes down the road, his Eagle Vision searching for clues.

' _Someone around here must know Ms. Cadwallader.'_

* * *

Jumping off the boat onto the wet pavement at the docks, Evie weaves her way through a crowd of people to a shaded wall at the Tower of London. She climbs and finds a high point to survey, her eyes narrowed as they focused on the soldiers in red scattered all around.  _'Lots of guards, predictable patrol routes,'_ she notices.  _'Thorne may already be inside… Better stick to the shadows.'_

She lets her second sight focus on the tower itself, searching for Ms. Thorne or the Shroud. Sure enough, the woman was in the White Tower, her yellow aura dashing about madly as she searched for the casket. "The Shroud is in a chest that matches the key," she could faintly hear her yell out. "Find it and bring it to me." The Assassin turns her attention to a group of Royal guards in the courtyard below, frowning as she watched one of them hold up a set of keys. Further down the yard she watched a soldier grab a disguised Templar and drag him into the shadows. "You're not with the Royal Guard. How many of you are there? Tell me!" he yells.  _'Mr. Green's ally,"_ she notes to herself, before turning her attention to a group of Templars forcing a constable into a small room, locking him in there. "Let me go!" the constable yells. "This is treason!"

Her eyes narrow as she begins to formulate a plan, her eyes focusing back onto the White Tower. She could get the keys, and free the constable, tell him what's going on and to prepare his men. Then go and meet with Green's ally and figure out how they could get into the Tower.

She pulls her hood up and is ready to get into action, but is cut short when a soldier below spots her.

Her eyes widen as they immediantly begin shooting at her.

How? she thinks in surprise. She dives down behind the small tower she had perched on, searching frantically for a place to hide.

Jacob was better at improvising than she was.

It isn't long before the sirens are blaring.

* * *

"Ned Wynert," the sergeant greets as the two police officers force said man into a chair.

"Mr. Abberline, long time no see," the American smiles, but his tone is full of spite. Waving the other two cops off, the two are left alone in the investigator's office.

"It's sergeant," Freddy responds with a frown, crossing his arms as he leans against his desk. "Ned," he starts, and he sounds exhausted. " _What_  are you doing?"

The smaller of the two shrugs, leaning back into his chair as casually as he can get, cuffed. "What do you mean? I'm just a regular businessman trying to keep my customers happy."

The look he's given is one given to a guilty child who knew it had done wrong. "It's one thing to cover for you when you're out doing whatever it is you do on a regular occasion," the cop says sternly, "but working with the gangs? It's getting harder and harder to keep you out of the picture."

Ned frowns, feeling just a little bit of guilt. Freddy has covered for him more than he deserved, but on the other hand… "You say that like I'm not the only one working with gangs,  _sergeant._ Didn't you and Mr. Frye just stop the bank robbery?"

Abberline's eyes widen. "What about Mr. Frye?"

Ned raises a brow. "You…. You're kidding me, right? Jacob is the  _leader_ of the  _Rooks_. You can  _not_ tell me you didn't know that."

The cop feels his mouth run dry. So not only was Jacob part of a secret cult, but a gang leader as well? Closing his eyes, he puts a hand to his forehead and sits down at his desk. "Oh, for heaven's sake…"

Wynert gives him a slightly concerned, slightly annoyed look. "You didn't know, did you? Did you know he's also an Assassin?"

Abberline looks up and gives him a suspicious look. "Yes, just recently. How do you know all of this?"

Ned snorts. "Besides the fact that the Rooks are under orders to help me whenever necessary, I have a lot of spies lingering around that get me whatever info I need. I know a lot about the Fryes, and I mean a lot more than I should be allowed to live with."

The cop sits up, back in his seat as he stares blankly at the criminal before him. Ned seems to realize the same thing Freddy does, because he smirks. "You know…you could always let me go and I could repay you with any questions you might like answered about the Fryes."

This…was so illegal, Abberline forces himself to consider. Tempting but illegal…but…

It was illegal to have Jacob running around kidnapping the bounties or solving murder cases for him. It was illegal to work with him with his…Assassin Order.

Oh, sod it.

Standing up and reaching into his pocket for the keys to Ned's cuffs, Abberline sighs. "Alright, Mr. Wynert, but this is to remain—"

" _Discreet,_ I know," the American rolls his eyes. "Honestly, you're far too paranoid to be a police officer."

Freddy gives him a dark glare and Ned smirks. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" He watches the sergeant unlock his cuffs, rubbing his wrists when they were freed. "Alright, so, you obviously want to know something, so what is it?"

The cop sighs and leans against the front of his desk, throwing the keys on it somewhere behind him. "Mr. Frye has…a contact…that I'm interested it."

Ned looks up quickly, caught off guard by the statement. "You know about that, too?"

Abberline raises a hairy brow, frowning. "Yes, from Ms. Frye. We spoke about Jacob having a possible contact that's working for Starrick."

' _Oh, that's not good,'_ Ned frowns, biting the inside of his cheek. "Well… Here's the thing…" he starts slowly, and that makes Fredrick nervous. "We don't even know ourselves, right now. We have our suspicions, but I'm not one to accuse before I have the facts."

"What do you mean, 'we'?" the cop feels lightly anxious.

Ned shrugs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Myself and Henry Green. We've been looking into it, because we're worried Jacob's working with the wrong kind of people, and…" he starts quickly, "we're trying to  _not_  get Evie involved, so I would stop talking with her about it."

This was starting to become too much. All this drama and not enough answers. "Who do you suspect it is?"

Ned gives a half-hearted smirk. "Not sure I should say. As I've mentioned, we're not even sure who it is."

Freddy frowns. "I need to know," he sounds aggravated, "what I should expect. I don't care if it's who you think it is or not, but I need a  _name_."

The older of the two sighs, leaning back in his chair. "You sure you want to know? This has to stay between us. Evie  _cannot_ know, no matter what."

He gives her a look, but nods. "I'm very sure."

Wynert sighs again, standing up to his feet and dusting himself off. He takes in a deep breath, before looking the cop right in the eye.

This, was a bad idea.

* * *

Thorne nearly growled when the alarms started to go off. It wouldn't be long before the royal guards discovered her and tore through her group of Templars. She was running out of time…

She turns around, her eyes dashing from object to object in the room. Where the hell was it?!

She doesn't have time to blink before the windows are shattering.

Evie Frye sails through, slamming straight into Lucy and sending the two women across the room, rolling to the ground with two loud thuds. Evie groans and Lucy sits up quickly, grabbing for the blade at her belt.

"You fool!" the Templar exclaims. The Assassin is already pushing herself to her feet, pulling the blade from her cane-sword out and lunging at the other.

Lucy cries out as she's rammed back into the desk, just nearly dodging the blade as she grabs the arm of her attacker and drives it beside her, the blade lodging into the desk right under her arm. She reaches behind her and grabs the candle stick and rams it into the Assassin's side, causing her to hiss and stumble backwards. She grabs the cane-sword beside her and goes to take it from her, but Evie pulls it back and yanks the Templar forward, her hidden blade extended. Lucy barely catches herself from falling into the blade, stepping to the side and letting go of the cane. Evie makes a sound similar to a growl as she misses, cursing herself as she ducks from a swing from the Templar's dagger.

"You can kill me," Lucy yells as she takes another swing at Evie, "but what good will that do you?! The Shroud isn't here!"

"You seek a tool of healing in order to extend your own power!" Evie dodges another swing, countering with a swing of her own with her leg.

Thorne scoffs. "Not mine; ours," she grabs the other's leg by the ankle and throws her aside, causing Evie to stumble to her right. "You are so short-sighted," she glowers. "You'd hoard power and never use it, when we would better the condition of humanity."

"Who? You and Starrick?" Evie glares at her. "The Shroud can only be worn by one. Did you think he would be willing to share that power with  _you_?"

Thorne's eyes widen, before narrowing darkly. "You don't know anything."

Evie sheathes her cane-sword, attaching it to her belt on her side. "I know enough. He's using you for his own ambitions, and when he has the Shroud, he'll kill you, too!"

"You're wrong!" Lucy exclaims. "He has never-!"

She doesn't get to finish. The doors behind them burst open, a large army of soldiers running in, pointing their guns at them. Someone throws a smoke bomb and the girls start coughing, turning around to make a run for it. They don't get very far, before the soldiers run in and begin to try restrain them.

The last thing Evie remembers is the butt of a gun hitting her in the back of the head.

* * *

Jacob watches as the Blighters lead the three Templars onto the boat, muttering silent threats to get them to move forward. Roth stood beside him, watching with his hands folded behind his back, grinning from ear to ear. "Excellent work," he pats the Assassin on the back, startling him slightly. "This will surely drive a wedge in the great Starrick's work."

Jacob smiles, because yes, Starrick was going to be enraged, and two, Maxwell had complimented him. Evie on the other hand would sit and point out every little thing he did wrong, scolding him for it. Roth was always happy with him, no matter what mistakes he made.  _"That's what makes it fun, isn't it?"_ the man would cheer on whenever Jacob felt he could have done something better. It was nice to be appreciated for a change.

When the Blighters gave their leader the okay, Roth smiles once more and turns to the Rook. "Do come find me at the Alhambra. I have more amusements planned for us!"

He turns at Jacob's nod and hops in the boat, turning to give the Assassin one last look. They meet eyes as the boat starts chugging away, and for a moment, they can't look away. Their gazes are locked and something keeps them there. Maxwell watched as Jacob took a step forward on the dock, as if he wanted to follow, but he stops and frowns instead. Roth opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but the horn of another boat cuts him off. One of the Blighters gets his attention and, with his stare lingering, he breaks their trance and turns around.

Jacob watches, feeling as if he was missing something.

* * *

Her head is pounding, ears ringing as she stirs, slowly peeling her face from the cold, rocky ground with a groan and shaky arms. She squints her eyes, the hazy teal irises darting around her current surroundings, trying to remember what had happened to her and where she was now.

A cell.

She was in a cell.

With this shocking realization she sits up, eyes now wide and focused. There were tall steel bars from the floor up at the entrance, spaced just enough apart for a cat to fit through. She wasn't in chains but her weapons, including her hidden blade, were gone. She whips around at the sound of someone else there, and gets to her feet as she sees Lucy Thorne wake up as well, sharing the same cell with her. The woman sits up and takes a moment to hold her head and make the same discovery Evie herself has, before she's bolting to her feet, bewildered and angry.

"Where are we?!" she exclaims, and Evie glares at her in return.

"I would say a prison cell, if it isn't obvious enough," she snaps back, turning her head to look around again.

"You've got to be kidding me," Lucy groans, feeling her person for any kind of weapon. When realizing they took everything, she curses and stomps over to the door. "And they put me with you. How kind of them," she mutters dryly.

Evie raises a brow, watching the woman try to peer through the bars at the lock holding them in. "Don't be such a child," she answers, walking up to the bars as well. She grabs one and looks down the hallway, noticing a guard standing at the end of it. Just one. Poor sod, she smiles gently. He has no idea who it is he's guarding.

Lucy turns and gives her a scowl. "A child? You're the one getting involved with something you know nothing about."

The Assassin turns her attention back to her cellmate, her brows furrowed. "I know as much as I need to. At least I know when I'm being used or not."

The Templar takes a step forward, as if ready to fight her again. "I. Am not. Being used. Starrick and I have already agreed we would do this  _together."_

Evie scoffs, laughing at other with a roll of her eyes. "You're terribly naïve. Do you think he's going to just give you the Shroud? Only one of you can wear it. One of you would age while the other is blessed with immortality. Do you really think he would give up that power? For you?"

Thorne clenches her teeth, turning away. She doesn't speak, and Evie closes her eyes, sighing.

"I understand if you have feelings for him," she says, her voice softer now, "but you cannot let those feelings blind yourself from the reality of it all."

' _Do not allow personal feelings to compromise the mission…'_

Lucy turns and glares daggers at her. "I do not. I have no feelings for him other than respect. We share the same values and ambitions, but my heart was for someone else."

"It no longer is?" Evie questions, watching the woman look down, swallowing.

"Not after your brother murdered them."

The twin frowns, looking away. "Such is our way of life. No matter what we feel, we are forced to make decisions based on our own order."

Lucy gives the girl a skeptical look. "You Assassins have always been ridiculous. You think the world can run free without any kind of restraint? Without someone to guide them?"

Evie looks back at her, feeling her irritation grow back. "You believe we want chaos, is that it?"

"That's exactly what it is."

The Assassin shakes her head. "What we work for is the innocent. The people that strive day and night to keep themselves and the ones they love happy. We want to give them the freedom to choose their own paths, their own lives…not be forced to follow the orders of a tyrant who only cares about his own ambitions. This world…would be nothing without the people," Evie raises a hand as if gesturing to the very planet they stood on. "Each and every individual life on this planet has a value, a meaning. The Templars only care for themselves."

Lucy frowns. "You're wrong. What we do is guide the people to live the longest, the most prosperous. Without us they would destroy themselves. They need leaders, and we are those leaders."

Evie takes that into consideration. "But haven't you thought that the ways you're doing it are wrong? We don't need leaders: we need  _mentors._ Those that look after you but let you live your life the way you want to, picking you up when you fall. It doesn't matter how the people choose to live; if it makes them happy, then isn't that worth it all? Would you want to live a long and healthy life but never get to be happy, or live a short life with all the happiness in the world?"

The anger from Lucy seems to have faded, and she looks at Evie now with…something like interest. The Assassin continues, hopeful to get her point across.

"It doesn't matter what happens in the end. We all die, we all take our final breath, we are all equal at our deaths. The only thing that matters, is what we've done with our lives, and if we've lived them to the fullest." She takes a step forward, her words firm but kind. "The smiles we've made, the good we've done. If you knew you were going to die tomorrow, wouldn't you want to do everything you've always dreamed of? Lived the way you want to with no restraints? Die happy?"

Lucy closes her eyes, looking away. Evie gives her a sympathetic look. "The person you loved, did you ever tell them? Ever plan to marry?"

The woman takes in a deep breath, turning to look back at Evie with as less emotion as possible. "What you're saying, is that you would rather the world burn, as long as it's happy, then try to keep it alive as long as possible."

Evie nods. "Nothing is true, everything is permitted."

Thorne tilts her head slightly, the phrase ringing a bell. The two are quiet, studying each other carefully, thinking over what had been said between them. It's after a moment that Lucy looks away, staring blankly at the cell door again.

"The person I loved… We wouldn't have been able to be together. The world would have shamed us, and it would have been our lives at stake, but…" She closes her eyes. "If I had a second chance, I would give up everything I have to be with them."

"Even the Order?" Evie asks quietly. Lucy nods.

"I always told myself you Assassins would just destroy the world. Then I fell in love with someone I shouldn't have, and started to reconsider. Hearing it from you now…" she looks up, meeting Evie's eyes. "I can say I respect your point of view."

"So what will you do now?" Evie takes another step forward, this time placing a hand on the other's shoulder. Lucy looks down again, her eyes narrowing.

"I don't know what I want anymore. They believed in the Order, they had their own goals, knew what they wanted, and we had plans. Now…they're gone, and I don't know what I should even do."

Frye nods her head towards the cell door. "Choose your own path. Do what you feel is right. You can either go back to Starrick and the Shroud, and put your fate in his hands, or…"

Lucy looks up as Evie finishes.

"You can make your own path and do what makes you happy."

Thorne meets her eyes, and they stare. Evie could see the woman thinking, truly considering her options.

She closes her eyes, before furrowing her brows in seriousness. "I cannot decide now," her tone is straight and her gaze focused. "For now I will continue my search for the Shroud. I need you to prove me wrong if I am to make a decision."

Evie nods. "That is fair. I suggest we make a proposition."

Throne raises a brow. "And what may that be?"

The girl nods towards the guard at the end of the hall. "We work together. We break out of here, and take down Starrick. I," she snatches the key from around Lucy's neck, watching her eyes widen in surprise, "will keep the key. You find out where the Shroud is. After Starrick is finished, whoever gets to the Shroud first will keep it."

Lucy glares at her. "That is  _if,_ Starrick does as you say he will."

"I know it," Evie nearly growls, "The Shroud is only meant for one. He will surely betray you…but for your sake, we will play this out, and see for ourselves."

Thorne takes in a deep breath, letting it out from her nose. "Very well," she sneers. "You have a deal."

They hesitantly grab and shake each other hands, before they pull away from each other.

"How do you suggest we get out of here, anyway?" Lucy questions, watching Evie put the key into a pocket on the inside of her jacket. The Assassin holds up a hand, and starts to look all around.

Evie uses her eagle vision to focus on the number of soldiers there were, and where their weapons were being kept. It appeared they were in cells in a separate building inside the Tower of London, their weapons inside a chest in a room upstairs. Their were twelve guards total patrolling the area, including the one down the hall.

"What are you doing?" Lucy frowns, watching Evie blink a few times, as if she had something in her eye. The Assassin looks back at her and nods towards the guard.

"There are twelve soldiers total. Our weapons are upstairs in a room guarded by two."

The Templar stares, dumbfounded. "How do you know this?"

Evie gives her a frown, shrugging. "I have my ways. Now," she grabs the female's arm and pulls her to the back of the room. "He has the keys to our cell. We need to get him over here and close enough to grab them."

The two exchange thoughtful looks, before an idea hits them simultaneously.

* * *

The man yawns as he shifts from one foot to the other. He honestly hated guard duty. It was dull and terribly boring, and his legs ached by the end of the day. Why couldn't he be out doing something more interesting, like protecting the Queen or something?

"Hey!" he suddenly hears behind him. Glancing behind him he sees one of the two woman they were supposed to be watching waving at him through the cell. It was the one with red hair. "Hey, you! I have a problem in here! I think this girl is dead!"

His eyes widen as he turns fully around, walking over to the cell and peering inside. The other prisoner was laying face down, seemingly not moving. That wasn't good. They needed her alive for questioning.

"Move aside, back against the wall," he orders, reaching for his keys in his pocket. The woman does as she's told, backing up to the far wall and watching with her hands behind her back. He opens the cell door and steps inside, closing it behind him. He walks over and kneels down beside the supposed dead girl, reaching to feel for a pulse.

Evie jumps up immediantly, grabbing the man's arms and rising to her feet. He yells out and goes to fight her, when Lucy runs behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck, strangling him. They hold him there until he's unconscious, laying his sleeping body on the ground.

"Poor fool," Thorne mutters, unbelieving that the man had been so stupid. Evie nods in silent agreement as she grabs his keys, heading to the cell door.

As they get out they make their way to the stairs at the end of the hall, crouching as they leaned against a doorway at the top. One guard walked into the room through another door, on his way over to them. Evie grabs him from around the corner and knocks him out, before pulling her hood up and motioning Thorne to follow her.

They spot the two soldiers guarding the room that held their weapons, nodding at each other before rushing forward, Evie taking the one down on the left, Lucy the one on the right. They enter the room, going over to where their weapons were. Evie grabs her gauntlet and makes quick work of putting it on, while her ally grabs her blade and straps it to her belt. She grabs her gun and bullet pouch, while Evie grabs her kukri and cane-sword, strapping them to herself as well.

"We're good to go," Evie speaks in a quiet tone. "We'll take a boat back to the City of London. You can report to Starrick that you didn't find anything here. We will meet in a few nights to discuss our plan."

Lucy nods. "Very well. I expect you to keep your end of the deal."

The Assassin turns from her. "As I expect you."

It wasn't long before they were back into the city, parting ways.

Evie closed her eyes as she stood on top of the train hideout, thinking over the night and what she had gotten herself into.

She was working with Lucy Thorne.

Henry asks her what happened, and she has to tell him she has the key, but Ms. Thorne got away. She's quiet when Jacob arrives on the train, watching him take off his hat and put it on the coat rack. He seems distracted, as if something heavy is on his mind. It makes her think about Roth, and the possibility that they're working together. He stares out into space until he hears her walk in, looking up to meet her gaze.

It appeared they each had their own secrets, one just as bad as the other.

* * *

"This…" Starrick slams the newspaper down on his desk, glaring at it as if  _it_ were the cause of his troubles. "This is outrageous…"

The double doors to his study open, and he looks up to find Lucy Thorne, looking as if she had gone through the machines in his factories. Her hair was frayed and loose from her bun, her outfit torn and ragged. Very out of character for her type. "Ms. Thorne… What happened?"

She takes in a deep breath, and it appears as if she's trying to contain her anger. "That blasted Frye woman!" she exclaims, stomping forward. "Nearly cost me my life  _and_  stole the key!"

Starrick stares at her, his mouth dropped open slightly. "The key is…"

Lucy leans on his desk, her eyes narrowed. "The Shroud wasn't in the Tower of London."

The man holds a hand up to his face, closing his eyes. "Tell me…" his tone was low, "you know where it is…"

"I do," she answers, and he looks up quickly.

"Where, then?"

The female dusts off her coat. "I believe Buckingham Palace. The only issue is  _where_ exactly, the vault is located."

Starrick nods, walking over to his chair to sit. "That will not be a problem. We can get the layout plans and pinpoint where exactly it is. You focus, for now, on getting that key."

Thorne nods. "Very well."

He turns his attention to the paper on the desk in front of him. "Tread delicately. We're too close to lose now. That damn Frye boy has taken another one of my boroughs,  _Westminster_ , destroyed my factories, and caused me losses in  _hundreds_."

Thorne frowns down at the paper. "Graves is dead?"

"I'm going to have to bring in more soldiers," he waves towards his assistant, who stood quietly awaiting his next order. "The only area I have left is the Strand. Obviously Roth is doing well enough to keep it under our control. Get him for me."

The man nods and walks off. Lucy watches him, her brows furrowing, before turning to give Starrick one last nod. "I will be off, now. Let me know whey you have the plans."

He nods. "May the Father of Understanding guide you, Ms. Thorne."

  


 


	8. Chapter Seven - Secrets Revealed

**Chapter Seven – Secrets Revealed**

"Jacob!" Roth exclaims the moment the Assassin reaches him backstage. He shoves a paper in the younger's hands and grins. "My gift to you!"

Jacob holds up the paper to see it better, reading it out loud. "Dear Mr. Starrick. Men hired. Strike tomorrow. Disraeli's death will stall Corrupt Practices Act indefinitely. Gladstone will be far more pliable. May the Father etc. etc.., -B" He looks up and meets the other's gleaming eyes. "So Starrick's got his fingers in politics has he?"

"Is it really surprising?" Roth turns and grabs his drink off the table. "The Corrupt Practices Act is, long story short, a very large threat to Starrick. If it goes through, he'll be devastated, in more ways than one."

"And whoever this 'B' is, is trying to prevent it from going through?" Jacob frowns. "You have any idea who it may be?"

Roth frowns as well, taking a sip of his drink. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid not. I haven't been able to find out yet, either."

The Rook looks down at the paper. "I suppose I can start by finding Mr. Disraeli. Find out who's after him."

Roth smiles now, putting his cup down. "I would suggest you start with the Sinopean Club, my dear. Those of his type, tend to linger around there."

Jacob smiles and tips his hat to the older man. "I'll let you know what I find."

The Assassin turns to make his way out, when Lewis walks in, nearly bumping into each other. Roth grins at the faces the two make at each other; Jacob disturbed and Lewis as blank as usual. Jacob glances back once at the Blighter leader before rushing out, as Lewis walks up and hands him a letter.

"From Mr. Starrick, sir."

* * *

Evie closes the wooden door behind her quietly, her eyes narrowing as they focused on the woman waiting for her, looking out of a window that lead to a view of the Thames. "Ms. Thorne," she greets hesitantly, not sure how this meeting was going to go. She had to lie to Henry, again, telling him she had a lead she was interested in following. When he offered to go with her, she had to turn him down.

She had never felt so guilty.

The Templar turns and meets her eyes, both women frowning untrustingly at each other. "Ms. Frye," she greets back, tone just as cool and calm.

"How did he take the news," Evie decides to start conversation. "Of the key?"

Lucy shrugs and looks away. "Well enough. Your brother is more than enough of a distraction for him to care too much."

Evie raises a brow. "What did he do?"

The older of the two gives her a questioning look. "You don't know what your brother does around London? He's killed Lilla Graves, our gang leader in Westminster."

She doesn't mean to smirk, but she does slightly. "It's hard to keep track of what Jacob gets himself into. I have to admit I'm happy the Rooks have another borough in their hold."

Lucy scoffs lightly, but there's a hint of a smirk there, too. "Not the neatest work for an Assassin, is it?"

The air is a bit more relaxed now. Evie smiles. "Not entirely professional for Templars, either."

They seem to be on an even respect for each other now, which would make this…partnership much easier, Evie thought. "What information do you have?" she asks now, trying to get on track. Lucy pulls out a small piece of paper.

"Starrick will be at this location at five sharp tomorrow. He's meeting with Maxwell Roth to discuss the gang situation and the training of more leaders."

Evie takes the paper and frowns at the address. "St. Pancras?"

Thorne nods. "Yes. Starrick will be taking the train there. He wants to keep it as brief as possible. Nothing makes him uneasy, unless it's Maxwell Roth."

"Why's that?" Evie frowns, looking up at her. The woman frowns back.

"Roth is…unpredictable and chaotic," she starts, sounding hesitant. "He has the power to overthrow Starrick if he wanted to, yet works on the side for him. He doesn't want to be in the Order, despite how much we've offered him in return. He's dangerously smart and deadly both at once."

"And he makes Starrick nervous?" Evie folds the paper in half, putting it in a pocket inside her jacket. Lucy shrugs.

"You could say that, but then again, there aren't that many people that can face Roth and not be uneasy."

Evie thought back to her fight with the man. He certainly made  _her_  uneasy. The way he saved her then fought her, then let her go alive with the threat to never come back…

…would Jacob really work with a man like this?

"I will go and see what information I can gather," she snaps herself out of her thoughts. "Meet me back here the morning after and we will go over it."

Lucy nods. "Don't let them see you."

Evie stopped and looked at her, feeling another small smile curve her lips. "I won't."

* * *

Jacob leads the cop he had kidnapped into the Sinopean Club, his eagle vision focused on finding the Prime Minister, and his possible killer. The cop he was holding on to, hidden blade pointed at his back, gives him a nervous look out of the corner of his eye.

"The Corrupt Practices Bill is a vital step in reforming our government," Jacob turns his attention to the voice of Disraeli himself, standing in the center of the club, speaking with another man of his age. "If the majority party is allowed to dictate the results of contested elections, we can scarcely call ourselves free."

' _Well, if it isn't my dear old chum, Mr. Disraeli. Now, Prime Minister, which of your friends is about to stab you in the back?'_

The other man Disraeli was addressing seemed snappy in his reply. "If we yield up our rights bit by bit to the courts, we can scarcely call ourselves free, sir."

The Prime Minister throws one of his arms up in agitation, the other hand clenching tightly to his drink. The cop in Jacob's arms swallows and moves a bit, and the Assassin gives him a glare.

"This is so like you, Gladstone!" Disraeli yelled, and Jacob tilted his head. So that was Gladstone, mentioned in the letter? "You would rather throw your body upon the gears of progress than surrender one iota of power!"

"By God, Disraeli, you are a fool!" the other older man yells back. "I'll not stand idly by and watch you drag Parliamentary privilege through the muck!"

Disraeli's eyes narrow at his rival. "No, certainly not! You'd rather return us to the yoke of tyranny? Perhaps while we're at it, Mr. Gladstone, we could repeal Magna Carta and return the crown to the  _bloody_  Stuarts!"

Jacob's brows raise at that, a smirk pulling his lips upward. There was just something funny about old men yelling at each other the way these two were.

"How dare you, sir!" Gladstone takes a step back. "Merely because I do not wish to see government placed in the hands of judges, you would make these slanderous accusations? I'll not stand for it!"

This is why he never involves himself in politics, Jacob thought with a smirk, pulling the cop into a dark corner to knock the poor man unconscious. He creeps against the wall, watching the Prime Minister turn abruptly on his heels. "Then I shall obviate the requirement. Good  _evening_ , sir."

Disraeli takes his leave, Jacob not too far behind. What was interesting, was the other man following the Prime Minister. Jacob raises a brow.  _''B' I presume?'_

As Disraeli gets in his carraige, the spy starts running, as if planning on chasing him. Jacob sprints, running straight for the man, tackling him to the ground. Getting up, he kicks the man once. "Pleasure to meet you, 'B.'"

The man on the ground rolls over, shaking with fright. "'B?' My name's Herbert!"

A look of surprise took hold of Jacob's face, before he frowns. "Then why are you following the Prime Minister?"

Herbert sits up, holding a hand up to measly defend himself. "It's just a job, sir. Some old bloke paid me to-"

His words were cut short as a bullet hole found itself blossoming on his forehead. Herbert collapses on the ground, dead.

Closing his eyes, taking in a deep breath, because he was so  _damn_  close to getting the information he needed, Jacob turns around, finding the sniper in red perched on the roof of the nearby church. She lowers the riffle from her eye, smirking, obviously proud of herself, before turning around and running off. Jacob's eyes narrow.

"Smug bastard."

* * *

"Mr. Abberline," Ned greets as he leads Henry over to the sergeant, the officer turning around from where he stood by a café table, looking anxious and somewhat paranoid.

"Mr. Wynert, Mr. Green," he replies to the two, shaking both of their hands. "Anything?"

The two exchange uncomfortable looks, before Henry sighs. "Nothing, yet. I haven't had a chance to talk with him, but I suspect the worst."

"I think they're working together," Ned says, crossing his arms. "There's so much to prove that they are. The fact that the Blighters are working for Jacob is the biggest sign. Then they don't even mess with him or the Rooks anymore on the streets. They usually attack my convoys, and nothing since Evie was attacked."

Freddy frowns, his eyes darting between the two associates. "Why, though? What would either of them get out of working together?"

Green looks around, a bit paranoid as well. There were a few Rooks standing on the corner of the road, a few Blighters across the street. The two colors were glaring at each other, but neither made a move. "Perhaps they have a common enemy," he suggests.

Ned blinks and Abberline raises a brow. "Starrick?" the latter asks, and Henry nods.

"Yes. Think;" he gestures to Ned, "you said it yourself that Roth likes chaos. Starrick is all about order."

"And at the docks," Ned murmurs, "both Jacob and Roth's men were after the Templars."

"Who has been giving Jacob information about Starrick? The man that works directly  _for_  Starrick," Henry puts together. "I'd stake my life on it, now."

Freddy holds up his hands, pausing their exclamation. "So, what? What will Roth do once Starrick is out of his way?"

"I don't know," Henry frowns. "I'm not sure I want to."

"We still need to  _see_ them together," Wynert puts his hands in his pocket. "Coincidences do exist. I'm all for betting my money on it, but I'm still a person that needs to see it to believe it."

"You're right," Henry sighs. "Roth's headquarters is located in the Strand. If what Evie says is true, then he's taking refuge inside the Alhambra Music Hall. I can go and investigate, and see if I can catch Jacob there at all."

"If it is true, we need to confront Jacob about it," Abberline states as his brows furrow. "Ask him why and figure out what to do about it."

"He won't speak with us directly about it," Wynert drawls. "We'd have to blackmail it out of him."

"I'll see what I can find while I'm there," Henry assures, turning to leave. "Possibly information to lure the truth out of them. See if you can't come up with a plan."

Ned and Freddy both nod, tension heavy in the air.

* * *

"Come back here with that…Prime Minister!" Jacob yells uncertainly, smirking stupidly to himself as he jumps from one carraige to the next. The one he landed on was nearly completely trashed, the Blighter driving it having a hard time keeping it steady. The horse whined as it was rushed forward, Jacob pushing the Blighter out of the seat onto the street below, yelling, "Sorry!" as he took the reigns and made a sharp right, keeping the Disraeli's carriage in sight. Figures something had to go wrong.

Something  _always_  went wrong.

The carraige was hobbling this way and that, and as another carraige of Blighters pulled up alongside him, Jacob pulled his gun from his waist and shot the driver. He gets up, jumping across the gap between carriages and barely landing on the roof of the nicer vehicle. He grabs the Blighter that was struggling to grab the reigns, stabbing him in the back of the head with his hidden blade and tossing him out of the seat as well. Now, taking the reigns, he speeds up as quick as the horse will allow him to alongside the Disraeli's carraige, grinning at the shocked Blighter that wasn't expecting him.

One gunshot later and Jacob is delivering the Disraeli's safely to their house,

* * *

Henry frowns from where he perches atop the building beside the Alhambra, watching as a few Blighters turned the corner down the alley in between the two structures. They walked and talked, carelessly amongst one another, seemingly at ease within the area. The inside of the music hall was dotted with red, nearly in every room, standing out with his second sight.

In bright yellow backstage was Roth.

He was leaning over a table, going through papers, filing through them and handing some of them to actors and actresses with him. They took their pamphlets and scurried off, eager to get to practicing their lines for their upcoming show.

Then something in the street catches the Assassin's eye.

Jacob.

"No…" Henry can only breathe out, as he watches Jacob take a turn down the alley, tipping his hat to the Blighters who gave him odd looks, and entering through the side door of the Alhambra as if he lived there.

This…this was bad.

Oblivious to his stalker, Jacob shuts the door behind him and walks along the red carpet to Roth, taking a good look around the theatre. More props were being set up, and it seemed a performance was being prepared for. The Blighter leader looks up and smiles at the Assassin, waving away his actors to give the two of them privacy.

"Ah, darling, how did it go?" he asks, and Jacob huffs, sounding annoyed.

"Well, I had to  _escort_  through a few hoops to get the information, but I found out that the man's name is James Brudenell, Seventh Earl of Cardigan."

Roth makes a somewhat disgusted face. " _That_ fellow? Well…" he looks away with a smirk. "That explains a lot of things…"

Jacob raises a brow but doesn't question it. "He's going to be at the Palace of Westminster, tomorrow afternoon."

The man's smirk grows. "I take it you plan on meeting with him?"

Jacob smiles. "Something of the sort."

Maxwell grins and turns, grabbing a cup off of the table and a bottle of whiskey to go with it. "You're going to run out of people to kill, my dear."

"I won't stop until I've killed Starrick," Jacob takes the glass he's offered without second thought, watching Roth poor himself a glass, "and freed the people of London."

"You'll have your chance, soon enough, no doubt," Roth takes a sip of his drink before speaking again. "With Cardigan out of the way, he'll have no one left."

Jacob raises a brow and smirks. "Oh? Besides you and Lucy Thorne."

Roth laughs and turns to sit on the large red sofa along the back wall, propping his feet up on the coffee table placed in front of it. "Ms. Thorne is soon going to realize that she's merely an instrument in his tool case."

"And you?" Jacob plops down on the couch beside him, arm over the top of it. "What will you do once Starrick is gone?"

Roth shrugs. "Probably take whatever money he leaves behind to finish up this old place," he gestures to the walls of the Alhambra around them. "Not sure quite yet."

"What about your gang?"

The man shrugs again. "They have their uses."

Jacob frowns, not sure himself what he would do when Starrick was taken down. Free the rest of the boroughs, for sure, clean up the factories, rescue the children...but what else? Evie was most likely going to run off with Henry Green, leaving her younger, bothersome brother behind…

Would she?

"What's troubling you, dear?" Roth asks as he puts his empty glass down on the table, reaching to take the empty one from Jacob's hands as well. The Rook looks away, towards a group of performers chatting excitedly between each other.

"Nothing really," he hums. "Nothing I can form into words, that is."

"What are you thinking, then?" the Blighter tries, as he can practically see the frustrated thoughts reflect in the other's eyes.

Jacob leans back on the sofa, lifting a leg to rest his foot on the edge of the coffee table. "Evie's going to leave after this, I know to no doubt."

"Now how much harm will that do, exactly?" Roth teases as a slow grins curves his lips. "As much as you rant about her, it seems it would do you more good if she did leave."

Jacob gives him a weak smile. "Perhaps, but…she's the only family I have, and she's someone to come home to, whether or not we're arguing, it's still comforting to have her around."

Roth stares at him for a moment, before reaching over with his hand, taking the other's chin in a gentle hold. Jacob's eyes widen, his breath caught in his throat as the hand under his chin feels around to the side of his face, Roth's expression unreadable.

"Sometimes you have to lose something to gain something, my dear," the Blighter says quietly. "You have to make a mess to clean one."

Jacob frowns, just now realizing how close they were sitting to each other. "What do you mean by that?"

Roth's hand seems to be moving subconsciously, reaching for the hat on top of the Assassin's head and taking it off. He leans forward just a bit, but enough to make Jacob freeze from head to toe, unsure of why breathing was just so hard to do. Their legs were against each other now, Roth tossing the top hat aside and reaching for one of Jacob's hands.

"She may leave you darling, but that doesn't mean she was the only person you have to go home to."

He's pretty sure he's going to have an anxiety attack. Jacob feels heat creep into his face at the questionable feelings growing tightly in his chest, his eyes wide and breath caught achingly in his throat. The intimacy of Roth's statement confused him more than ever. Did that mean Roth wanted Jacob to stay here? That Jacob wouldn't ever be alone because he had Roth? What did that even mean?

Maxwell turns suddenly and grabs Jacob's cup again and refills it. "You look like you could use another one of these," he teases, turning back to hand it to him. Jacob takes it a bit faster than he liked to seem, unable to properly form words because of how surprised he was. Roth keeps talking, as if the moment didn't faze him at all. Like there wasn't an Assassin have an inner panic attack sitting next to him on his couch. "Did you have a plan for our friend, Cardigan?"

Swallowing and clearing his throat, Jacob forces himself to talk. "I-I don't, not yet at least. It's usually easier to figure something out when I get there."

Whether or not Roth heard the stutter, Jacob couldn't decipher. The man only pours himself his own refill to drink, leaning back and comfortably putting his legs on the coffee table.

"Improvising is always the best plan," Roth grins. "A plan never goes as planned."

Jacob snorts. "Tell that to Evie," he mutters, before taking a gulp of his drink. Roth laughs.

"See? Already complaining about her again?"

Realizing that the man was right, Jacob could feel the sweat drop down his head, and he laughs lightly. "I…suppose you're right. A break from her would be good. Not sure how long I'm going to stay on the train when she leaves, though."

The Blighter smirks and gestures to the theatre around them. "You're more than welcome here, my dear."

Something about the offer made Jacob's face heat up. He ignores it, smirking. "Not a theatrical person," he jokes, and Roth laughs.

"You say that, my dear, but you're the star of the show."

* * *

He jumps awake, his arms flying up as he sits up from the couch, looking around him frantically.

He was in the Alhambra.

On Roth's couch.

On…Roth.

The man laughs as he watches the Assassin look around with surprised eyes, realizing that he fell asleep, his head on Roth's lap, while drinking and talking with the man most of the night. The Rook reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, his face reddening considerably, before attempting to stand up and clumsily falling over back onto the couch.

"What time?" he mumbles, as the Blighter leader grins at him in pure amusement.

"Just shy of noon, my dear. Sleep well?"

Jacob's eyes widen. "I have to be…" He lifts a hand to his head again, before turning and spotting his hat on the coffee table. Picking it up and putting it on, he stands up again and nearly trips over his own feet. "I have to be there  _at_ noon!"

"You better get moving then, darling," Roth laughs again. "Cardigan isn't going to kill himself, now."

"Shut…" Jacob glares at him, before turning again to stumble away. "Shut up…"

He can't even process the fact that he fell asleep on Maxwell Roth, who could have killed him so easily.

He  _had_ to be more careful…

* * *

The girl frowns as she balances on the support beam, watching the train screech to a stop as it parked itself inside St. Pancras. About five Templars came out of the last car to stand guard outside it, one of them going on ahead through a crowd of people, to a group of six Blighters and Maxwell Roth standing a little ways away.

He escorts them to the train, but only Roth goes inside.

Crawford Starrick is there as well.

She jumps down from the beam she's on above the train and lands on the ground beside it, crouching next to one of the little windows to hear the two men, using her Eagle Vision to see them through the walls.

"Roth," Starrick greets, sounding bitter. Roth puts on a smile, but it's a tight, fake smile, one that he wore just for show.

"Starrick. I'm guessing you called me here for a reason?"

Starrick holds out three files and puts them on the desk in front of him. "I need you to train three more people."

Roth's brows fly up. "Really now? And what happened to the others?"

The older man glares darkly at him. "That Frye boy, is what happened. I had everything in order, until that damn devil showed up and destroyed it, brick, by brick."

Roth's reaction is hard to decipher. He gives the other a smirk, taking the files. "I had a feeling they wouldn't last long," he says nothing about Jacob. "Especially Nora. She wasn't entirely…there."

Starrick isn't amused, and continues to glare at the man. "You seem rather fine with this."

Roth shrugs. "I told you I'm not interested in your Order."

"Yet you continue to work for me," the man leans back in his chair.

The Blighter leader laughs loudly, as if he was told some kind of joke. "My friend," he begins, "I'm not one of your loyal subjects you can boss around. We have a deal, and without me, or my Blighters, you would be nothing. You could kill me now and I wouldn't care. Plus," he adds, "I never said I would do this."

Crawford snaps the quill he's holding in half. "I should kill you."

Roth grins. "What do I have to live for? Either way I get something."

The Grand Master stares at him with narrowed eyes, inwardly fuming. "I'll add twenty-five percent to your original pay. Fifty, if you can find and kill that Frye boy."

Evie's eyes widen and Roth's brows fly up. "Something is certainly some _thing,_ hm, _"_ Roth smirks. "You really don't like this boy, then."

Crawford grabs his cup of tea on the desk. "He's killed half of my men, destroyed half of my factories, killed Pearl…!"

With each thing listed off, his voice rose. Roth waited patiently for him to finish.

"That boy," the Templar continues, "and his bloody sister, will ruin everything that I have worked so hard for in this city. I want them,  _need_  them, dead in less than two weeks!"

Roth blinks in surprise. "Two weeks?"

"I know where the Shroud is," Starrick states with a calmer tone. Evie tenses.

"Why wait two weeks to get it, then?" Maxwell frowns. "Why not now?"

Starrick takes a sip of his tea, before putting the cup down. "I yet to have the key, and the Queen is having a ball in two weeks, with all the major heads of Parliament. That is when I will get the Shroud."

Evie puts a hand over her mouth, watching as Starrick continues. "I will give you the plans in a weeks time, but you will be there with your Blighters in case anything goes wrong."

Roth has a small frown, but nods. "I'll see you in a week, then."

Starrick waves him away.

Evie watches as Roth exits the train, handing the folders to a Blighter standing outside it. He walks at a brisk pace, his frown never leaving him.

If Roth was going to have the plans in a week, then she could easily get them. Then she could get the Shroud on her own, before the ball even happens.

Those gang leaders, though…

They would be a problem for Jacob, especially since Starrick now has put a price on his head. She would need to take them out before they became a problem.

..and the only way to do that, was to follow Roth right to them.

* * *

"Usually," he started with a grin, about to have the time of his life, "I would be in disguise, but my clothes fell into the Thames." The man walking in front of him, nods, only half listening. He continues: "One of my favorite disguises, is a very ancient old lady, modelled after my mother." The man turns and gives him a funny look. Oh, Freddy was going to kill him… "You'd be surprised how convincing I am. A tough old bird she was," as the man turns around, he sneakily kills a Templar as they walk passed, "Actually she had a facial hair problem," he's trying not to laugh, now. "We'd sell the hair for dolls."

He's pretty sure the man is doing his damnedest to ignore him, and he decides to give the guy a break. He's messed with Freddy's image enough. "Please let me know if I am speaking too much. I am prone to flights of fancy."

Which wasn't actually a lie, in the detective's case.

They get to this door at the end of the hall, Jacob killing another Templar and throwing his body into a nearby closet, as the man he followed knocked on the door.

"Password?"

The man's eyes widen. "I beg your pardon?"

The voice on the other side of the door is monotone. "No password, no passage."

"Do you know who I am?" the man exclaims. "I'm a member of Parliament, you cretin!"

"No password, no passage, sir."

Jacob smirks as he pushes the man aside, knocking on the door.

"Password?"

Giving the man a grin, he turns back to the door. "Banana."

"…Go away," the guy on the other side says, obviously not amused. Jacob shrugs to the man standing next to him, who just huffs and storms away.

Perfect.

He knocks again.

"Password?"

He grins.

"Balaclava."

The door opens, the Templar on the other side sighing. "Come in."

He dies two seconds later by a hidden blade.

Dropping his body quietly on the ground, he turns and shuts the door, before looking at Cardigan, who was leaning over a desk, not having any clue with what happened.

"Ah, Minister Hacker," he starts, to which makes Jacob grin again. "One moment. Dashed paperwork will be the death of us, wot? Give me a stout horse and a sabre and I'd have this government running as smoothly as Henley Regatta, hm. But needs must and all that. Let's see…sign here…initial…initial…and…done!"

He turns around, holding the papers in his hand. "Now let's discuss this like gen-good  _God!"_  he exclaims as he sees not Minister Hacker, but Jacob. "Who the bloody he-!"

Jacob rolls his eyes. "Oh, shut up."

* * *

He frowns as he walks across the backstage, finding Lewis tidying up some paperwork.

"Where's Roth?" he asks, causing the doorman to look up with a blank frown.

"He's taking care of some business. He won't be back until later this evening, I presume."

Jacob frowns, caught off guard by this. Business? What business? He didn't mention anything before he left that morning… Was it to get more information, perhaps?

"I'll…be back later then…" Jacob murmurs in thought, turning with a wave to Lewis, who simply shrugged in return.

* * *

Lucy looks up as Evie jumps through the window, raising a brow.

"There's a door, you know," she starts. Evie pulls her hood down.

"There's also a window," she smiles, feeling like Jacob would say the same thing.

The Templar woman rolls her eyes, before putting her book down on the little, old table in front of her, standing up. "What did you find out?"

The girl dusts herself off as she talks. "Starrick is having Roth train three more gang leaders. They're holding up in a warehouse in Southwark."

Lucy frowns. "That's all?"

Evie bites the inside of her cheek, not wanting to tell her of the plans. Not yet, at least. "He also is planning on attacking the Queen's ball in two weeks."

The woman gives her a slightly surprised look. "For what?"

Evie shakes her head, pulling out a paper. "I do not know. Perhaps he feels that once he has the Shroud, nothing should be of higher power than him."

Lucy just stares at her blankly, seemingly in shock. "But…we never…"

The Assassin frowns, watching the other woman turn around, putting a hand up to her head. "We never discussed this…" she mumbles.

Evie gives her a small, sympathetic sigh. "I told you… Only one can wear the Shroud. A man like Starrick, wouldn't share power like it to save his life. I am sorry."

The Templar shakes her head, pulling out a chair to sit, staring blankly ahead. "But he said we would…that he needed me to…"

Evie could feel the girl's struggles and shock, as if it were radiating off of her. Carefully stepping over to her, she pulls out another chair and sits in front of the shaken woman.

"Lucy, it isn't too late to change things. We can bring an end to Starrick, his lies, his manipulation, his mad quest for power, together."

Thorne looks up at her, frowning as Evie continued.

"The world isn't going to last forever," she starts softly. "What good is immortality, then? The Shroud must remain out of his hands, or the lives and dreams of the people will cease to exist. No one could or would be happy."

Lucy is quiet for a moment, before closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath.

"I need a drink," is what she says.

Evie blinks in surprise. "I…suppose we could go out then…"

* * *

"Good evening, sir," Lewis greets, sounding as bored as usual. Roth just chuckles at him as he walks up to the table in the center of the room. Lewis was so boring it was  _funny_.

"Anything interesting happen today, Lewis?" he asks, putting the files down on the table.

The servant shrugs, grabbing his coat from the coat hanger by the door. "Mr. Frye stopped by to see you."

Roth frowns, looking up at the man. "How long ago?"

"About two hours ago, sir."

Maxwell's brows furrow as he looks down at the folders again. Was he gone that long? That must mean Jacob's mission was successful…

"He didn't stay?" He asks, as Lewis grabs his bag.

"No, sir. He did say he would come back later. He didn't say when exactly."

That was…good at least.

"Thank you, Lewis, you can go home."

"Good night, sir."

Roth sits down on the couch behind the table, flipping through the folders and their papers. Maybe Jacob would come by some time that night, he thought, not really reading the papers. After meeting all three Templars, he had a feeling Starrick was just getting desperate. These guys  _sucked_ …

It was funny to him how pissed Starrick was at Jacob, and had no clue that they were working together. He was in for one hell of a surprise.

…why didn't Jacob stay? He was sure the Rook leader had things to do, but…

It disappointed him.

He would never kill Jacob, he thinks. No, he would die before he even thought about trying to kill him. Starrick had nothing to offer him in exchange for the boy's life. Jacob was too precious. Too valuable.

Jacob was too focused on saving London.

" _What about you?"_

What if Jacob's ambitions went a separate way than his? What if they didn't agree on something that caused the end of their partnership? The thought of losing Jacob was…

…scary.

It scared him.

…he couldn't give him up, for anything, he realizes then.

Even freedom?

…and then he's asking that question again: would he give up freedom for Jacob?

Could he?

The sound of yelling outside snaps him out of his thoughts, followed by something that sounds like a struggle. He gets up and grabs his gun from its holster, cautiously opening the door, where a few of his Blighters stood outside, aiming their guns at a group of police officers.

One of them was shoving Lewis into a carraige…

…and Fredrick Abberline was standing there, waiting for him.

* * *

She wasn't necessarily planning on drinking with the grieving woman, but she felt like after downing her first, she could do with a bit of unwinding.

Especially, with her thoughts fluttering back to Jacob every other second, now. It seemed that ever since they came to London to save it, they've done nothing but destroyed what little bond they had between them. As children the two weren't ever close, if they could call themselves siblings at all. Evie was always the good little child that made their father proud, and Jacob was the rascal that got himself into more trouble than they could count.

…but it felt like it was something deeper.

Jacob and their father never were close, because of something she didn't understand. Then, there was that day…

She saw Jacob with someone. Another boy. She didn't understand what they were doing, but she was angry that Jacob had disobeyed their father again by leaving when he shouldn't have, and they ended up fighting. They were only eight, she remembers. She went home and told their father, and when Jacob came home later that night, there was a huge fight. A huge one. She hadn't been inside the house at the time, instead outside with George, but they heard the screaming. Then something broke, something like glass, and then George is running in the house, and Jacob takes off through the front door.

She hadn't seen him in years, after.

George had found him and taken him in, was all she knew. Then the day comes where their father is diagnosed with an incurable illness, and Jacob, grown, handsome, the exact image of their father at age nineteen, walks through the door with George ushering him inside. He went into their father's bedroom, came out with red eyes hours later, saying that their father was dead.

She never understood it. Never understood what had happened. Why things always were the way they were. After that, George had her and Jacob working together. Missions and assassinations, she was always the planner, and he was always the one that got them out of trouble when things went wrong. They could agree without a problem, work without a problem, and yet ever since leaving Crawley they've been at each other's throats.

She looks at Lucy, who sat next to her on a bar stool, playing with an empty glass. Her eyes were glassy, and the Assassin could easily assume the woman was at least a little drunk.

"Are you alright?" she asks, feeling like she just should. The sudden concern she felt at seeing Lucy like this hit her out of nowhere, slightly startling herself.

The woman shrugs. "No…" she admits. "The person I loved is gone, and the only purpose I had is a lie. I have nothing."

"That isn't true," Evie says, putting a hand on her arm. "You can still help us stop Starrick."

"And then what?" Lucy glares at her. "Go to my home, alone? I'm never going to find another person like he- like  _them_ , and even if I did, it wouldn't be the same…"

Evie frowns, giving her a curious look. "May I ask, who it was you were in love with?"

The Templar looks away, down at her glass and stares at it, as if it held the meaning of life. She doesn't say a word, and Evie begins to think she won't, until after the bar tender comes and refills their cups, leaving them alone.

"It was Pearl."

Evie freezes, turning to give her a wide eyed look.

"Pearl Attaway?"

Lucy nods, her grip on the glass tightening. "Yes. We were in love, as impossible as it sounds, as illegal as it could be if we were discovered. We were inseparable, until she became lost in her ambitions and led herself to get killed by that…your brother…"

Evie can only stare, letting Lucy talk but not knowing what to say in return.

"She just…wanted nothing more than to grow her business…" the woman starts crying, choking on her words. "I busied myself with searching for the Shroud, thinking we both just needed something to do… I never expected…"

Frye can't help herself but reaching for the woman and pulling her into a hug, ignoring the odd stares they got from the old man across the bar. Lucy lets her hug her and cries quietly into her shoulder, obviously letting herself go for the first time since Pearl's death.

"I'm so sorry," Evie says softly, not sure what else to say.

Lucy shakes her head and keeps crying.

The Assassin just sits there, as they do for minutes upon end.

Jacob hadn't wanted to kill Pearl, she knew. She wasn't sure if he had fallen for her, or if he just, as his usual self was prone to do, saw something good in her or thought she was a good person, who didn't deserve to die the way she had to. Then again, wasn't he always like that? His first assassination had him in shock for almost a week, but it was the first time their father had praised him, so he forced himself to move on.

" _I killed him."_

…and he was always so trusting, too trusting of people. He was always so willing to open his heart to others that he thought were good, to be crushed over and over again. He was easily manipulated, easy to control. Pearl had controlled him, and again he was hurt.

Her thoughts went back to the possibility of him working with Maxwell Roth. If he was…and Roth did control him…did manipulate him…did hurt him…

…he would turn out to be this girl in her arms, sobbing because the dreams she had were crushed by a simple flick of a blade.

* * *

Jacob's brows furrow as he walks through the train, with no sign of his sister, which was odd, because usually she's waiting there for him…

He nearly crashes into Henry as he turns around to head to his own train car, the two jumping back, startled. "Greenie," Jacob greets, a bit shakily. The Indian Assassin nods in return.

"Jacob."

There's an unspoken tension between the two of them. Henry takes a good look at the Rook leader, trying to figure him out. How, is all he can think. How could he be working with…?

"You alright?" Jacob asks skeptically. "You look a bit faint."

Henry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'm, actually not. Look," he starts carefully. "Jacob…I need to talk with you about something, or…someone…"

The boy gives him a confused look, raising a brow. "You don't mean my sister, do you?"

He tries to keep the heat from his cheeks at that comment. He gives the other a gentle glare. "No, Jacob. Someone else."

"Who, then?" Frye's tone is impatient and bored.

Henry takes a second to force the name from his mouth.

"Maxwell Roth."

Jacob froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had this chapter written all except two paragraphs, that I just haven't had time to do until now. I hate filler chapters... Next chapter shouldn't take this long to update.
> 
> -Anonymoux


	9. Chapter Eight - Wrong Feels Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I've been dead for a while. These two chapters will be worth the late update. Yes, I said two chapters. You're welcome.
> 
> Anonymoux

**Chapter Eight – Wrong feels Right**

"What about him?" Jacob asks slowly, giving the Indian Assassin a cautious frown. Henry closes his eyes and sighs, before glaring softly at the other.

"Your partnership with him."

Jacob feels himself freeze, as if he were tied to the train's tracks, watching it speed at him and unable to do anything about it. He visibly pales, his eyes narrowing sharply. "What are you-?"

"I saw you go to the Alhambra," Henry cuts him off. "I know that you've been working with him since arriving here in London."

Frye's mouth drops open. "You spied on me?!"

"You shouldn't be working with him," Henry exclaims.

"And who are you to tell me what to do?" Jacob glares at him. "I've been taking out the Templars, freeing London. What have you and Evie been doing, besides being sickly sweet with one another?"

"Maybe you've been picking at Starrick," Green chooses to ignore the comment about he and Evie, "but the way you're going about it is chaotic."

"Starrick, wants order. What's wrong with a little  _chaos_  to break it? Evie is all about order, and nothing ever gets done!" Jacob yells at him.

"You cannot keep working with Roth," Henry feels his voice rise, which it never does. "What if he's using you?"

That seems to snap something in the Assassin, as he turns and lowers his voice to a growl. "He would  _never-"_

"Sorry to interrupt, boys," they both turn to look at Ned, who walked in the train car with his arms crossed, eyes locked on Jacob, "but I got a bit of news for you."

"What happened?" Henry says, a tad bitterly than he liked. Wynert doesn't seemed fazed, doesn't even take his stare off of Jacob.

"Roth's been arrested."

" _What?!"_

* * *

Evie groans as she lifts a hand to her face, inwardly cursing herself for drinking again. Jacob had a bad habit of convincing her to drinking challenges, and she had a bad habit of agreeing…

…but…she wasn't with Jacob when she drank the night before, she suddenly remembers.

She was with Lucy…

Her eyes snap open, her head whirling as she sits up from the couch she lay on, looking around what seemed to be the old building her and Lucy made into their meeting place, but no Lucy.

Trying to remember what exactly happened, she slowly gets to her feet, holding the side of her head as she stumbles over to the table in the center of the room, looking around for anything in particular interest. Just the same map of London and the notes she took on Roth and the new gang leaders, as well as their location. She looks up, frowning at the clock on the wall, which read five past noon.

Leaving the table, she walks around it and heads to the small hallway, walking down and glancing into the rooms that were empty and dirty, until she reaches the last room, which, oddly enough, the door was shut.

She slowly cracks it open, peering in, to find Lucy laying on the bed there, sound asleep.

So, she must have gotten the woman to bed and went to sleep on the couch when they came back, she thinks with a frown. She  _had_ to be more careful. For all she knew they both could have ended up dead or seen by one of the Blighters, who could have told Starrick that the two were together.

Hopefully that wasn't the case, she thinks worriedly.

* * *

Roth sighs as he leans up against the bars, but grinning nonetheless. "Could you at least let poor Lewis go? He hasn't done anything wrong."

Freddy glares at him from the desk. "No."

The thespian rolls his eyes, while Lewis just shrugs and sits back against the wall. "You always lock up innocent people, Sergeant?"

The cop's glare intensifies. "No. He works for you, just like all the other criminals I put in that cell that work for you. Enough."

Roth laughs. "So hostile!"

"I wouldn't be if you would just be quiet, already," Freddy snaps, way passed tired of the man. "You still haven't answered my question."

The other raises a brow. "What question? As far as I can remember, you never asked me anything."

Abberline throws the pencil he had been using on the desk with a muttered growl under his breath. "You know exactly what I want to know! Are you or are you not working with Jacob Frye?!"

Max isn't fazed. "Who?"

Before the cop can yell at him again, the window on the far wall explodes as a throwing knife goes through it, and Jacob himself lands on the floor. Roth grins.

Freddy turns and points an accusing finger at the Assassin. "What are you doing?!"

Jacob's eyes narrow. "What are  _you_ doing, is the question! Can't you people leave me alone?!"

He snatches the keys from Abberline's belt as he storms passed him, up to the cell to unlock it. Roth meets his eyes and smiles. "Rough day, darling?"

"Shut up…" the younger mumbles, unlocking the cell.

" _Jacob_ ," Abberline snaps. "You seriously cannot be-"

"I don't want to hear it," the Rook leader interrupts, stepping aside to let both Roth and Lewis walk out. He throws the keys at Freddy, who catches them with a scowl. "Let me do how I do. I've helped this city far more than you certainly have," he continues.

Freddy glares coldly at him. "As if I haven't helped you find the criminals to help London!"

"Maybe you should be doing your job, then, Sergeant!" Jacob yells back, pushing both Roth and Lewis out of the door, the former grinning as he listens to the two fight. "Then I wouldn't have to be here at all!"

With that the Assassin slams the door, pushing passed the two he just rescued and stomping down the steps, out the door with both Roth and Lewis at his heels.

"You need a drink, dear," Roth said, still grinning.

"Damn hell I do!" Jacob huffs, lifting his hat up to run his fingers through his hair, before slamming it back on his head. He whistles at a carraige full of Rooks driving to them, motioning them over. "I need to get my bloody hands on Starrick already!"

"To the Alhambra, then," Roth laughs, knowing he was most likely going to be out of alcohol by the end of the night.

* * *

"Evie?"

The woman in question looks up from her book, watching Thorne walk in the room with a confused frown. Her hair was down, and surprisingly long and curly, making her look a lot more young and innocent than she did with it up.

"Lucy," Evie greets, putting down her book. "Sleep well?"

The woman frowns, walking around the table to sit on a chair next to her. "I…suppose. When did we get here?"

The Assassin shrugs, standing up to get the Templar a glass of water. "I'm not sure myself, but it's already three in the day."

Lucy blinks in surprise, accepting the water she was given as Evie sits back down. "I slept that long?"

"You seemed as if you needed it," the girl says, leaning back in her chair.

Thorne frowns, turning the empty cup around in her hands. "I…appreciate it."

Evie nods, looking away. "I came up with a plan, this morning," she offers. "Something we can do to cause Starrick some trouble."

Lucy looks up, blinking curiously. "What plan?"

"We go after the new gang leaders Roth is supposed to train. At the warehouse. Take them out."

The Templar stares, taking the plan into consideration. Evie meets her eyes, the two girls studying each other carefully.

"If I do this, I would become an enemy of the Templar Order," Lucy states, frowning. Evie raises a brow.

"That is your decision. If you choose to do this, I would give you the chance to join the Assassins," she offers, crossing her legs.

Lucy's brows fly up, and she turns her head slightly to one side. To join the Assassins? She thinks, quiet, long and hard, turning away to look out the window.

"Lucy?"

She closes her eyes.

"Sod it, I'll do it."

* * *

The two watch as the last of the gang leaders makes their way inside the warehouse. They must have been out drinking, they see, as the men and woman stumble about, slurring and yelling for no reason at all. The two girls exchange looks. This was going to be far too easy.

They sat on the roof of the building across from the warehouse, crouching as they came up with their plan.

"Dynamite," Evie points out, in a carraige on the side of the building. "We can take it and scatter it around the inside."

Lucy eyes the guards perched on the roof with snipers, as well as the ones patrolling the grounds. "What about them?"

Evie purses her lips, watching the way the guards walked about. One stopped to talk to another, before they both turned and headed opposite ways. "It looks like they're on a certain route," she observes. "Which is stupid on their part. We can just take them out as we go."

Lucy nods, the two of them standing up at once. "Sounds decent. Let's get to it, then."

It was nice working with someone who followed her plans, Evie thought. "I'll take him out," she gestures to the Blighter standing next to the carraige of dynamite. "Once I do, start unloading."

They both nod at each other, before Evie grapples her way to the other building, kicking the sniper off the roof, before jumping down to land on the Blighter beside the carraige. She turns to head around the carraige, throwing a knife at another gang member that happened to hear some commotion.

Lucy ran up to meet her, and together the two start unloading the explosives.

"We'll have to set them close enough together to cause a large enough impact," Evie states. The plan felt a little out of her league, she suddenly realized. Only Jacob would do something this outrageous. Maybe she was somewhat of a hypocrite…

"First or second floor?" Lucy asks, looking up at the open window above them. Evie frowns.

"I'll take the second. Just be careful."

The ex-Templar looks at her and smirks. "Same to you."

Evie smiles, before taking a small load of dynamite and throwing it in a bag to carry, climbing up the side of the building to get on to the second floor.

It doesn't take long for them to scatter the explosives; most of the Blighters were outside guarding, while the others were sitting and watching their bosses collapse in a pile of drunken stupidity. Lucy meets Evie on the second floor, frowning.

"We can't get out down there," she points to the steps. "More have shown up."

Evie frowns, looking for an open window.

"Hey! What happened here?" they hear someone yell. They both curse under their breath. They must have left a dead body out in the open. "Hey! Someone's here!"

At that moment, a Blighter runs up the steps, right into the two girls, his eyes widening. "Ms. Thorne?"

Evie pushes Lucy aside and shoots her gun at the dynamite behind him, causing both he and the steps to explode.

As well as the other dynamite.

"That was a terrible idea!" Lucy exclaims, as the two break for the nearest open window. An explosion below them collapses the floor, preventing them from reaching their escape. They nearly slide off the edge as the skid to a halt and turn the other way.

"There!" Evie points, to an open doorway that led to a small balcony. The two run towards it, stopping to look down at the Thames below them.

"We have to jump!" Evie grabs the other's arm, who's eyes widen.

"Are you serious?! We can't make it that far! We'll hit the pier!"

The Assassin shakes her head. "We can make it, trust me. A leap of faith. You have to trust me."

They meet eyes, the building exploding behind them. One goes off too close to them, and Lucy takes in a deep breath.

"Alright."

They nod at each other, latching hands together as they jumped, falling through the air with the wind whistling in their ears. For a second it looked like they wouldn't make it, but with only a foot to spare they dived into the water, the last of the explosions taking out the balcony they had stood on only moments before.

They break the surface of the water, gasping for air. They blink at the building before looking at each other with wide smiles. Laughs break out between them, and as they still clung to one another and Evie grabs the dock with one hand, they bump against each other, not realizing what they were doing until they felt their lips pressing together.

They both gasp and break away, their eyes wide and faces red. They stare at each other, unbelieving, before Lucy turns away and swallows. "I-I didn't…"

Evie shakes her head, squeezing her hand that she still held on. "It's…f-fine. Let's get out of the water before we catch a cold."

The red-head nods, and they climb out of the river, making their way away from the building. They stop and look at it again, seeing the fire department arrive, before turning to look back at one another.

"We should meet back at the house," Evie says quietly. Thorne looks as if she wants to say something, but instead her face reddens and she nods, turning away.

Evie watches her go, subconsciously pulling a hand up to her lips, which still tingled with the feel of Lucy's on them.

* * *

"I'll see if I can't talk with him," Henry mumbles, sitting down almost exhaustedly in his chair. Ned gives him a skeptical look.

"Yeah, because it went so well last time," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The Indian Assassin gives him a bitter look, as Abberline cuts them off.

"Jacob isn't going to stop working with him until he realizes that we're right. We may as well let him learn the hard way, as long as they don't cause too much trouble."

Ned nods. "I agree. Just tell Jacob that Roth is his responsibility, and that if anything goes wrong it's on him. It'll make him think, at least."

Henry leans back in his chair, looking down. "I suppose we have no choice. Jacob will do what he wishes, as stubborn as he is. I will tell him."

"We'll just continue to be quiet about it," Freddy adds. "I'm sure Ms. Frye wouldn't be happy about this."

The three share the same grim looks. They could sense that something terrible was about to happen.


	10. Chapter Nine - Broken Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I'm not sorry.
> 
> \- Anonymoux

**Chapter Nine – Broken Freedom**

Jacob frowns as he walks down the alley towards the side door, his Eagle Vision looking for potential spies. The fact that those idiots did what they did still pissed him off beyond measure. He already had Evie acting like their father, he didn't need complete strangers to him doing the same thing. Walking up the steps, satisfied he wasn't being watched, he reaches for the handle…

…only for Roth to open the door first, as if he just knew Jacob would be there.

"This way my dear, I have something to show you!" Roth exclaims excitedly, pushing passed him and running to the carraige. Jacob blinks, before smirking and chasing after the man, grabbing the reigns amusedly.

"Where are we going?"

Roth grins as he points for Jacob to turn their carraige to the left.

"One of Starrick's workshops, where they build weapons for his army. When the world is full of nasty things, we must tear those things apart," he says, waving at a few Blighters they passed to follow. "A man like Starrick builds a world around his own desires, so we lose the ability to dream for ourselves. Therefore, we must-"

"Strike," Jacob finishes with a knowing grin.

"Precisely!" Roth smiles. "No matter the cost… Every second of hesitation, allows Starrick time to build."

They arrive at an alley, Roth climbing out of the carraige and turning to offer Jacob his hand. Jacob raises a brow but smirks and takes his hand anyway, before following him up a building to get a view of the workshop.

"What a funk in here," Jacob comments as he takes a look at the factory. It was small, and well hidden, he gave it that, with Templars patrolling the grounds with bored looks on their faces, but it was just that, and nothing more. Not the big factory he was expecting.

"You must  _see_ the potential, dear Jacob," Roth puts a hand on the Assassin's back. "This workshop is one of Starrick's. Set the dynamite, and let's blow it to atoms.  _Together_."

* * *

Lucy.

She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened.

Her boots tap softly on the brick sidewalk as she makes her way to their building, the one they've been meeting in, one that she had grown oddly comfortable in, passing by large groups of people in the light, cold rain. Her hood is up, her eyes cast down as she thinks the event over and over again in her head.

Kissed by a woman.

Kissed by a Templar.

Kissed by someone she had thought to be her enemy, who she grew to like, somehow, in someway.

…and Lucy was just doing what Evie told her to do. Live life to the fullest. Chase what makes her happy. It shouldn't matter that they were both women, or what side of the battlefield they were on…

She just couldn't understand her feelings.

The emotions she grew when she thought about the kiss, about the way Lucy had looked both before and after, were strong, heavy, and almost completely similar to the feelings she had for Henry Green. Did she find the woman attractive? She couldn't say. She didn't know what to feel or how to feel it.

It was all too much confusing.

When she gets to the building, she stops, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Something…felt wrong.

Climbing through the first floor window and making her way upstairs, she uses her Eagle Vision, sensing something was ill.

There were red figures in the meeting room.

She runs up the stairs quickly, kicking the door down and startling the group of three inside, who whipped around to face her with guns out.

"She's here!" one of them yells out of the window behind them, and the first one takes a shot at her.

Just barely dodging the bullet, she lunges forward and tackles the Templar, stabbing him with her hidden blade, before pulling her kukri out to slice the guy running at her on her left. He screams in pain and falls down on his side, and she kicks his head to silence him. The third guy is halfway out the window when she turns towards him, and as she grabs him, she looks out to see a carraige speeding away.

A speck of blue was inside it.

She turns to the man in her arms, shaking him violently. "Where are they going?!"

He smirks, knowing his life was on the verge of ending.

"They are taking Ms. Thorne to Mr. Starrick. Betrayal isn't tolerated in the Order."

_No…_

* * *

"All rigged up," Jacob pants out as he runs to Roth's side on the roof, who smiled and looked down at the workshop.

"Perfect, let's put our plan into action…"

Jacob turns as Roth directs his men, eyeing the factory.

Wait…

"Stand back! Ready!"

He turns around, holding up a hand. "Wait!"

Roth blinks, giving the Assassin a confused grin. "Whatever for?"

Jacob points down, to the kids entering the factory. "There are children in there!"

The Blighter shrugs it off, waving with his hand as he walks up to the other. "Jacob, my dear…" he starts, earning himself a skeptical look. "Starrick uses child labor to manufacture goods. We must put an end to his production line."

Jacob took a step back, staring at the man with wide, startled eyes. "Yes…but not like  _this!"_

Roth stops, his eyes narrowing. "Why not?! I can do whatever I damn well-!"

He stops.

Jacob is staring at him with the most horrified look he's ever seen from a person. With all the people he's met, threatened, tortured, he's never seen anyone look as scared, as angry, as upset as Jacob looked now.

He looked  _betrayed._

" _It's one thing to do something because it makes you feel free…it's another to lose someone dear to you because of it."_

Jacob is shaking his head now, taking another step back, towards the edge of the roof, his hand slowly reaching for the weapon on his belt, as if he were ready to stop him if he had to. Was it really that, then? Is this how they would end? Over this?

" _Some things are worth more than freedom…"_

…and now here he is, asking himself the very same question he asked himself once, asked himself  _again_ , when and after Jacob first told him those words: Would he give up freedom, and everything he believed in…for him?

He…

He couldn't…

He…just.. _._

Jacob watches as the man looks away, shaking his head, before growling, "God  _damn_ it all…" He takes a last step back, before Roth walks forward, pushing passed him, yelling at the Blighters below:

"Get those kids out of there and throw those other idiots in there!"

They look at him in confusion, before opening the doors and yelling for the kids to get out. They start grabbing the unconscious Templars laying around, throwing them in the factory, before running out of explosion range.

Jacob can only stare with wide eyes, gasping as Roth turns and grabs him by the arm, pulls him against him, grabs the gun from his belt and aims it at the first set of dynamite.

He doesn't hear the explosion, because all he can focus on, is Roth's mouth, kissing his own.

* * *

She's never run so fast in her life. Her carraige crashed outside his mansion, and now she ran through the halls, passed surprised Templars and ending them only seconds later, not stopping as she made her way to the top floor. To Starrick's office.

She kicks the doors down, gun loaded and pointed at the man himself, Crawford Starrick, who stood calmly before a beaten and battered Lucy, who sat in pain on the floor, holding herself up as much as she could. Two men on either side of the doors Evie had kicked open, lifted their own guns to point at her, causing her to stiffen as she passes a glare between all of them.

"Let her go," she starts, voice dark and demanding.

Starrick scoffs, pointing his gun at the woman on the ground. "It's a shame… Love…" he goes on, walking halfway around Lucy, slow and lazy. "Love is poisonous. Those that let their feelings in the way of their work, tend to…suffer the most."

"Shut up and let her go!" Evie yells out, heart racing. Lucy gives her a pleading look, shaking her head. Not pleading for her life, but for Evie to back out before she was hurt, too.

"I'll do what I want," Starrick drawls, aiming his gun back at Lucy. "You Assassins haven't cared for anyone you've killed. Now, it's my turn. An unfortunate loss to my side, however…" He glares down at Thorne, feeling hurt and betrayal stab his heart. "What needs to be done, must be done. After all, if nothing is true…"

Evie freezes.

He smirks. "Everything is permitted…no?"

" _Lucy!"_

* * *

He pushes the other away, panting for air. Another explosion shook the ground and building they stood on, and Jacob, face flushed, ears ringing, mind spinning, takes a few, stumbling steps away from the man that kissed him, staring at him with too many, hurtling emotions twisting his heart up in a knot.

Roth drops the gun on the roof, staring back at him with just as many emotions in his eyes.

Jacob doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know what to do.

So he turns around, and he runs.

* * *

She slides down on the ground, grabbing the female and pulling her into her arms. The bullet was lodged into her chest, blood dripping down her blouse and corner of her mouth. Evie swallows, unable to help the stinging in her eyes as she looks down at her; Lucy weakly reaching up to stroke her cheek.

"I'm…" she starts weakly. Evie shakes her head.

"N-No…don't. I'm sorry…I…"

Lucy gives her a small smirk, the light fading quickly from her eyes.

"You'd better avenge me…"

Evie wipes her eyes, sniffling, nodding her head. "Of course…" she murmurs.

Lucy's smile slowly fades, her eyes closed as she takes her last breath.

Evie stares, shocked to her core. Why did it have to be like this?

"Leave, now."

She looks up at Starrick, who glared down at her in distaste. He turns away, heading back to his desk. "Come back and face me when you're honorable enough to do so."

She glares at him, picking up Lucy's body and holding her close. Her eyes narrow and her voice cuts the air like a knife.

"I will."

* * *

Henry looks up as Evie walks into the train car, face slightly flushed and her eyes reddened. "Evie," he says, surprised, holding out a hand. "Did something happen?"

She shakes her head, looking away. "Lucy Thorne is dead," she says simply, yet quietly. For some reason she didn't sound happy about it, almost saddened.

"Anything else?" he asks, wanting to know what was upsetting her. Evie shakes her head.

"No, nothing."

Before Henry can inquire again, the sound of boots landing outside the train car caught their attention. Jacob turned and looked at them, and they stare back in shock. His face was redder than Evie's, his eyes red and glazed, he looked frustrated, upset, and angry all at once. He turns quickly and slams the door shut to his train car, making the two flinch.

"What's wrong with Jacob?" Evie asks immediantly, looking at Henry, her own mood suddenly erased by worry for her brother.

Green stares at the door, fearing the worst. Roth couldn't have possibly hurt him already, could he?

"I don't know," he only half admits.

Only a minute later and Jacob comes back out, a new outfit on and his face a bit cleaner. He walks into their car, not meeting their gazes. "I have to take some kids to Clara…I'll be back whenever…"

Without waiting for their response, he turns and leaves, climbing onto the roof of the train and diving off of the bridge they were on.

Evie stares off into space, and Henry makes up his mind.

"I have to go meet with Sergeant Abberline," he says, looking back at the Frye twin just as she sits. "I'll be back shortly."

She nods, nod really listening, picking up her journal and writing it in.

* * *

"What happened?!" Henry exclaims, running up to both Ned and Freddy, who stood in an alley near a exploded factory.

"Jacob and Roth," Ned says, as if it weren't obvious, "and oh boy did things go down."

"What do you mean?" the Assassin questions, his patience faltering. Freddy looks at him, seeming to be startled by something.

"Jacob and Roth got into a fight," he starts slowly. "There were children in this factory, and Roth was going to blow them all up, but then Jacob argued with him."

Henry blinks, looking at Wynert, who shrugged. "I have a few spies working in the Blighters. Long story short, Roth decided to not blow up the kids and let them out, then…well… _kissed_  Jacob."

Green goes quiet, his mouth falling open as he looks between both the cop and spy, unbelieving. "You're…kidding, right?"

Ned shakes his head, and Abberline looks away. "Unfortunately no, Mr. Green. This isn't the first time Roth has gotten in trouble with relationships with men, either. I just didn't expect…"

"Nah, I knew Jacob was a queer," Ned spoke up, as if it weren't a big deal. "Well, at least somewhat of one. Kid gives it away too easily."

Both Henry and Freddy turn to give him an incredulous look. Wynert blinks. "What? The signs were obvious."

"To you, maybe," Freddy huffs, turning away. Now that he thought about it…Jacob  _did_ like to flirt…

"What happened afterwards?" Henry asks, going back to story. "Jacob came to the train looking as if he had killed Roth."

Ned shakes his head. "He ran off right after their 'moment.' Left Roth there for a minute before he left, too, looking all pissed and sad at once."

The trio is quiet, looking back at the factory. Dead Templars were being carried out on stretchers, at least, what was left of them.

Henry rubs his forehead exhaustedly.

The dilemma that was the Frye twins…


	11. Chapter Ten - Jokes-! Jokes-! Jokes-!

**Chapter Ten – Jokes-! Jokes-! Jokes-!**

Jacob glares at the vase Agnes puts down on the table beside him, giving the Assassin a questionable look. "Ye know," the plump woman starts, eyeing the boy down. "When someone sends a person flowers, that person ought a be happy."

Jacob scoffs and turns over, throwing his feet on the couch and pulling his hat down to cover his face. Agnes watches him for a moment, before sighing and shaking her head, leaving him there to brood.

The Assassin stares across the room at the small table that was quickly filling up with roses, wrapped gifts and unopened letters…all with the same red ink scrawled on them with his name in cursive.

Roth…

The feelings in his chest were painful. On one side, he was hurt and stunned by how so easily the man had almost killed a group of innocent children. On the other side…

He subconsciously touches his lips with his right hand, remembering exactly how Roth's felt on his. Warm, rough, with a touch of needing and dominance. Roth kissed him.

Roth  _kissed_ him.

…and was he really surprised? He wasn't sure. The attraction between the two of them…he hadn't been oblivious to it. He knew something was there, causing a tension whenever the two met eyes. Did he have feelings for Roth? Fuck,  _yes_ , was all he could think, raking his fingers through his hair. Roth was fun. Roth was dangerous. He couldn't think of a better match for him…but  _still_ …

Those children…

The look in Roth's eyes as he pushed him away, the warehouse in a blaze of red shooting into the sky beside them, embers floating passed their faces as they just stood, stared, and Jacob ran off because he just couldn't process, couldn't handle it all…

…and now it was gifts and letters, every single day from Roth as the thespian tried to get Jacob to come back to the Alhambra, to him. He refused to touch them. Refused to accept them. What Roth had almost done, was unacceptable.

He had fallen in love with the devil itself.

* * *

Evie frowns as Agnes leaves to do her shopping, noticing the slightly annoyed look she wore after dropping off yet more gifts for Jacob. Turning to Henry beside her, she nods to Jacob's door. "Who do you think keeps sending him those?"

Henry frowns, looking at the door as well. He knew very well who those gifts were from, but he made like he didn't, and shrugged. "Beats me. Your brother has a way of charming many people, however, so I wouldn't be surprised if he's won the heart of someone."

Evie frowns, not taking her eyes off of the door. "But he's been so…grumpy and down these past few days. He won't even talk to me."

Henry frowns, not sure how to respond. He wanted to tell her, but knew for Jacob's sake he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to him. "I'm sure he just needs time for something."

Evie doesn't seem to like that answer, but she took what she could and sighed, sitting down. "I suppose as long as he's out of trouble. Now that we have the key, anyway," she starts, looking over at the books on her table beside her chair, "we should figure out where the Shroud is…"

"Oh, that reminds me," Henry exclaimed, reaching in his pocket. "I think I have an idea where, and how to start." He stands up and offers her a hand, and with wide eyes she accepts.

"Where to?" she asks, as he leads her to the exit.

"I have someone I would like you to meet."

* * *

Evie frowns, watching the Blighters patrol the grounds. So there were another set of plans, she thinks relieved. That means she wouldn't have to take Roth's.

She just wished Thorne could have been with her.

"We're going to need a plan," she states, looking up at Henry beside her. His presence was comforting, nonetheless.

"I can provide a distraction for the guards while you find a safe way inside," he offers, surprising her.

"Oh, really?" she asks with a small smirk. "Whatever happened to staying off of the field?"

He looks away, smirking as well. Were his cheeks red? "For you, Evie, I would do whatever I could."

The words made her heart leap, her face heating up as well. "Well…once I'm inside, I'll find someone who knows where the papers are stored…"

Henry nods, reaching up to put a hand on her shoulder, catching her by surprise. "And we will meet back on the train," he says, as if he were afraid she would just run off.

He turns around and begins heading to another building to start their plan, Evie taking in a deep breath as she watches him go. "Be careful…"

* * *

_Darling Jacob,_

_I've never regretted any one thing ever in my life. You made me regret._

_I've never truly cared for any one person ever in my life. You changed that._

_I've never wanted any one thing so much in my life._

_But yet again you broke that._

_A force of nature you are, my dear. Like a storm you come crashing through, not caring what's in your way as long as you do what you have to. I've never admired any thing else so fondly in my life._

_Until I met you._

_I don't care how long it takes, Jacob. I will not stop apologizing until you've come back._

_I'm sorry._

_Sincerely, Maxwell Roth_

He rips the letter and throws it aside. He had given in at one point and decided to read the letters. Open the gifts. Weapons and writings and things that Roth and worked so hard on to send to him. Some were fancy poems, some were letters asking him to simply come back. A few brass knuckles, beautifully crafted, were wrapped neatly in soft felt and sitting inside boxes with his name engraved on them.

Roth was indeed very stubborn.

He wondered how long the man would keep sending him things. How desperate was he? How determined?

He was still mad at him, though, even though it was getting harder and harder to be.

* * *

"I swear Miss! I don't know where they've taken him!"

Evie blinks in surprised, giving the Blighter in her choke hold a raised brow. "Taken who?"

"The man dressed like you. The guards dragged him off…"

The Assassin's eyes widen, before narrowing darkly. "The plans you stole: where are they?"

The man shakes his head. "I don't know anything about that!"

She swallows the lump in her throat. The plans… Henry…

She couldn't give him up for them.

Killing the man in her arms with a curse, she turns and runs out of the house, using her sight for any trace of the Assassin. Two children run up to her, pointing and flailing their arms.

"Ms. Frye! They took Mr. Henry!"

* * *

_Jacob,_

_I made a mistake. I did, I know that. I regret it with all my being. I never want to do anything to upset you. I will do whatever I can to earn your forgiveness._

_My Deepest Regards, Maxwell Roth_

He groaned and tossed the paper shreds behind him, staring up at the ceiling. The man…almost blew up children, and wanted forgiveness? Could he forgive someone like that? Should he?

…and the nagging feeling in the back of his head that either way, he couldn't do this with…Maxwell. His father would…he didn't even want to know. Evie would surely disown him. Was it so wrong, though? To not only fall in love with a Templar, but another man as well?  _Would_  Evie hate him?

The fear in his chest was unbelievable. He had to do something, he kept telling himself. Either kill Roth or forgive him, and he couldn't make that decision. Roth wasn't a bad person, was he? Would it be acceptable? How much would his father hate him if…?

He had no answers to his questions. In the end, he knew he had to make a choice, quickly. Starrick was still out there, Templars were still out there. They needed to be dealt with. He sighs and looks over at the gifts and letters on his table.

He didn't know what do to.

* * *

Evie frowns, watching Henry hold his head again. "Get Ms. Nightingale to look at that," she says stepping around to stand in front of him. "I must find the vault before Starrick secures the Shroud."

Henry looks up at her, brows furrowed. "We'll talk to the Maharajah again."

Feeling a sudden rush of anxiety, Evie shakes her head, her voice raising slightly. "I will talk to the Maharajah. You will get your head looked at."

A hurt look flashed across his face. She felt bad, she did, but she had almost lost him. She didn't think she could handle losing both Lucy and Henry within the same week.

"I'm sorry my capture has undone your plans," he says, his voice almost a murmur. She ignores the guilt in her chest as she gives him a hard look.

"You'd be safer in the train," she huffs, turning to leave. The man's eyes widen, going to chase after her.

"Even if you find the vault, you can't just walk into Buckingham Palace alone," he tries, reaching to grab her arm.

She pulls away quickly, glaring at him. "I won't be alone!" she yells, causing him to flinch slightly. She swallows the guilt away again, this time feeling it much heavier. "I'll see you back at the train, Mr. Green," she says more quietly, turning away quickly to run off, before the guilt caused her to apologize.

She had to be strict on him. If something happened, she would never forgive herself. Besides, now that those plans were out of reach, her only option was to get the other set.

From Maxwell Roth.

* * *

Henry curses as he kicks a book across the floor, the night going through his head over and over again. All he had wanted to do was be there with Evie, and he failed. He wasn't made for the field, why did he think that he could get away with it? Now Evie hated him and…

"Rough night?"

He turns with surprise at the sight of Jacob standing there, leaning against the doorframe. He looked downright terrible, but fully dressed as if to go out. Henry frowns at him, concern taking over his anger.

"Somewhat. Are you alright?"

Jacob shrugs, looking down. "I'm fine, I suppose."

"Were you leaving?" the Indian Assassin asks, now giving the other his full attention. Jacob nods.

"I need to conquer the Strand," he starts with a sigh, "and get my gang settled there. I don't want Starrick having any places to hide."

So he wasn't going to see Roth? Henry wondered. The Frye twin meets his eyes and raises a brow. "What happened with Evie?"

…and then he remembers his own problems, looking away with a tired sigh of his own. "We tried to get the plans of the vault from Starrick's men, but I was captured, and we lost them."

"And I'm sure she berated you for it?" Jacob inquires, bringing Henry's attention back to him. After receiving a questionable look from him, the boy shrugs, playing with the rim of his hat. "I would know that's what she does. If something doesn't go as she plans it, she gets snappy. You learn to deal with it after a while. She means no harm," he adds, shrugging again. "She just doesn't know how to accept it. She'll get over it and probably apologize to you."

Was he trying to make him feel better? Henry frowns, considering his words. He hoped he was right, and that his chances with Evie weren't ruined.

"Just tell her," Jacob suddenly said, putting his hands in his pockets. Henry frowns, not understanding.

"Pardon?"

The Assassin shrugs. "Tell her already. You two have been dancing around each other instead of admitting how you feel about one another. I honestly don't care. I wouldn't care if you took her to India, just tell her you're madly in love with her and get it settled, already."

He was pretty sure his face lit up tenfold at Jacob's words, causing him to turn and avoid the stare he was getting. "So it's obvious."

"Are you telling me or asking me?" Jacob leans away from the door. "She likes you a lot. You should tell her before you miss your chance."

"You're telling me this, why?" Henry asks, suddenly suspicious. Jacob shrugs a third time.

"She's my sister," is his answer, as if that was all he needed to know. Henry watches him take his hat off, as if to flatten it and put it in his coat.

"What are you going to do about Roth?" he asks before he can stop himself. The words seem to come from his mouth subconsciously, not giving him a choice on the matter.

Jacob frowns and stares at the hat in his hands, playing with it. "I don't know," he answers quietly. There was no point in hiding the fact that Henry knew what had happened. He was surprised Evie didn't, yet.

"Would you forgive him?" Henry asks, again seemingly with no restraint. Jacob closes his eyes.

"I don't know what to do," he admits. "Evie wouldn't…" he trails off, not needing to finish his sentence. Henry studies him for a moment, debating on what to say. If Roth was willing to go against his own plans for Jacob, then he couldn't truly be bad, could he? What he did know, was that Jacob certainly had feelings for him. He himself didn't see anything wrong with Roth being a man. After all, he was friends with Ned Wynert. It was Roth being…well… _Maxwell Roth_ that worried him. Could he be trusted? He couldn't say. What he did understand, is that no one would know until something was done.

"I think you should meet with him," Henry says, visibly startling the other. Jacob stares at him, dumbfounded, as he continues. "It's impossible to tell if he is sincerely sorry," he starts, "but there is only one way to find out for sure. Whatever it is you do, I support you."

Jacob just continued to stare. Did they seriously just give each other their blessings? And Greenie accepting this? He wasn't sure what to think at that point. If Henry was telling him to go for it, then…

"Ere ya go!" Agnes suddenly called from behind him, throwing something into Jacob's hands. "Nice to see you out o' that box o' yours."

She saunters off, leaving him puzzled. In his hands was a brown box, a letter taped to the top of it. He frowns at it, feeling the paper between his index finger and thumb. Henry watches him, as the Assassin flips the paper open and reads it to himself.

_My dearest Jacob,_

_It seems our time is coming to a close. Where I would do anything to make amends to you, I understand if you refuse to accept them. If you could give me at least one chance, however, I would ask this of you:_

_I'm putting on a show this evening. All of London will be there. It's a special performance I've worked very hard on, and I would be overly delighted if you were to show. If you decide to come to kill me, as promised, I will be waiting for you. I wish, however, that we can find a way to start anew. I've enclosed to you a mask to wear at the show._

_Cordially, Maxwell Roth_

Opening the box, there is said mask, black with white engravings embedded on it. Henry is watching him silently, as he frowns to himself and puts the box down.

He stands there quietly for a moment, staring at the mask. Would Evie be okay with this? Probably not, but…would she learn to accept it? If even Greenie can tell him it's okay, then…

"Sod it, you're right," he murmurs, grabbing the mask. He turns to leave the train, only stopping to tip his hat to Henry. "Thank you."

Henry can't help but smile, nodding in return. "Good luck, Jacob."

Jacob leaves, a burning feeling in his chest.

His father was surely rolling in his grave right now, but…

He wanted to be with Roth.

* * *

Evie has a scowl on her face as she's packing up ammo, knives, and medicine to take with her, determination leading her on.

"Evie?" Henry calls, walking up to her. She doesn't look at him, doesn't even acknowledge him, which hurts him inside. "Where are you going?" he continues, however, Jacob's words echoing in his head.

"I found another set of plans," Evie states, voice void of emotion. "I'm going to retrieve them."

"Where?" Henry exclaims. How did she find them that fast?

"The Alhambra," Evie turns to finally face him. "Maxwell Roth has a copy. I'll just take the plans and if I'm lucky, take him down as well."

Shit.

Henry could feel the air leave him like a fist to his gut. He follows her as she turns, panic starting to take over him. "How will you get in there? The Alhambra has tons of dozens of Blighters inside, not to mention-…"

"I will deal with it," she huffs, turning to give him a glare. "Roth is holding some kind of show tonight, so I will use that to my advantage."

She turns and leaves before Henry could stop her.

" _Shit_."

* * *

"You told her about the performance?!" Henry exclaims, causing Ned to flinch slightly.

"Well, she asked!" the smaller man yells back, throwing his hands up in the air. "I wasn't thinking!"

"Apparently not!" the Assassin turns around, grabbing his hair. "She's going to go there, see Jacob and possibly assassinate Roth!"

"Wait, I thought she was just stealing the plans?" Ned blinks, "and Jacob is going back?"

"Yes! That's why we need to contact Abberline. I can't go in there alone," Green huffs, leaning against the wall of Ned's office. Wynert frowns, putting his hands on his hips.

"Why not? I thought you Assassins prefer to do things alone."

Henry turns and glares slightly at him. "Not all of them, and besides, the Alhambra is very large, and will have a lot of people in there. If Evie plans to take out Roth, then she won't want to be found, either."

Ned sighs, turning around to rub his temples. "Ughhh, Jacob's gonna owe me big time for this…"

* * *

Evie frowns, watching Leicester Square fill up by the minute. They weren't letting anyone in yet, it seemed. People were putting masks on for entry, standing in buzzing crowds of excitement. The signs outside of the theatre read "Corvus the Trickster," something Evie wasn't too familiar with. Whatever it was Roth was planning bothered her. She wasn't one for plays, preferring a good book instead, but even if she were she didn't think she would ever attend anything held by the leader of the Blighters. People had to know, right?

Most likely not, or these people were living off of Crawford Starrick, unfazed by the lower classes' hardships.

…and then she sees him. Roth says something to one of the females near the door, looking away as if searching for someone. She nods, and he puts on a gold mask, heading inside the theatre. The woman calls out to let the masked guests know that they will be letting everyone in soon, and Evie gets an idea.

If she can steal a mask, she could walk right in. Jumping down from her perch on a building across the theatre, she casually walks behind a group of people walking through the square. She sees a Blighter laughing drunkenly, falling backwards over a tree stump. His mask falls on the ground beside him, but he doesn't seem to notice as he scrambles back to his feet, laughing with his buddies. She picks the mask up as they walk away, dusting it off. It was as good as she could get, and fairly lucky.

The group of people was starting to enter the building, and, putting the mask on, she follows suit.

The inside of the theatre was decorated with velvet reds and orange candlelight, the smell of rich incense in the air, and the noise of chattering people. Making her way over to the walkway that served as a balcony all the way around the large theatre, she eyes the stage, frowning deeply. Roth was nowhere to be seen, but his voice was loud and clear as he talked over the large amounts of people.

"Mesdames et Messieurs, ladies and gentlemen," he called. "Welcome to the Alhambra Music Hall! Tonight, we have, for one night only, a very special performance, of Corvus, the Trickster!"

People's chatter grew with excitement and suspense. Evie frowns, wondering where the hell the man was.

"While some of the effects may be visceral and highly disturbing, fear not! This is the purest form of entertainment! Tonight's performance immortalizes, and is for the benefit of, a young fellow very near and dear, to my heart. Any concerns or complaints, may be addressed to him. Of course, it may also teach us all a lesson, to forgive, and move on, and how one person's mistake, or  _decision_ , can change fate as we know it."

That caught Evie's attention, and Roth's next words froze her to her core.

" _Jacob, dear boy! Tonight. Is. For you!"_

* * *

Henry cursed louder than he would have liked. What was Roth thinking? Announcing Jacob across a group of hundreds of people, some whom could be working directly for Starrick? And Evie! Evie was here! She must have heard it. There was no way she hadn't!

He couldn't find either of the twins. Ned and Abberline were somewhere on the other floors, helping in the search. Gods, were they too late? They had to be. Evie would question it all. Jacob would be discovered…

He just hoped Evie would understand.

He thought about Jacob's words, before he had left. Was Evie a forgivable person? Would she understand?

He hadn't realized until now how much he cared for not only Evie, but Jacob as well. They were his first, true friends. They were unique, different, yet had the same goals, only different paths to them. He couldn't stand to see them fight, and he'd be damned if they separated over something like this. He was honestly scared how Evie would react, and how he would feel about that reaction. He hoped she would be understanding and learn to accept this. He wasn't sure how he would handle it if she didn't. He would have to support Jacob, despite it all.

Then he saw her.

Evie was standing at the edge of one of the balconies, her mouth hung open in shock as she watched the stage. She snapped her teeth shut and whirled around, disappearing from sight.

Oh no…

* * *

His heart had stopped the moment Roth called his name. It was as if he weren't even addressing the audience, and only him.

" _You prefer tragedy over comedy."_

Roth was testing him. He knew he was here and he was testing him to see which way this would go. It would either end in tragedy, or something new.

He didn't know what to do.

He couldn't even find Roth. Hell, was he even here? How was he able to speak over everyone so clearly, when he wasn't even there?! It was almost maddening, trying to find him. There were at least four men dressed as Roth, just to screw with him, walking around the theatre just testing his patience.

" _Are your principles drifting, dear?"_

He cursed as he nearly tripped over his own feet rushing down another flight of stairs. How large was this place? He walks into a doorway that led out to the walkway, eyeing the stage and using his vision to search for Roth once more. He couldn't figure out which was the real one! With gritted teeth, trying to keep his irritation contained, he heads around to where more steps were.

" _The flavor intensifies the second time, the hunt, now a search for want rather than need."_

"Roth!"

The man was testing him. It was all a game of hide and seek just to see how he would lash out. Why was Roth doing this? Did he want Jacob to forgive him or kill him? And just as he's asking himself what Roth would want, it suddenly hits him. He didn't want to kill Roth.

" _The search consumes you, Creed forgotten, prey visualized, mouth watering."_

It came to him that it wasn't even about Starrick anymore. It wasn't about the Creed, it wasn't about his sister or his father. For once he just wanted what _he_ wanted _._ He wanted Roth.

" _Are you trying to repent, my dear? It's not too late…"_

Making his way backstage, out of the Blighters' sight, he takes note of the tanks of gasoline sitting by a set of props. Was Roth going to…?

He had to hurry, he realizes. If Roth wasn't down here, where would he be? Somewhere he knew Jacob would find him easily.

His body is rushing towards the stairs before he even thinks it. He hides behind a corner, watching a Blighter, and there he is! Roth, says something to the large bloke in red, turning to head up the stairs. The third act is about to begin, and the thespian stops to look out over the stage, before continuing up. Jacob follows quietly, watching Roth walk passed his office, further down the hall. By the time he gets up to the top of the stairs, the door to Roth's bedroom was closing.

Jacob frowns, standing there for a moment to gather himself.

His heart was racing, his breath short as it got lodged in his chest. This was it, he realized. He was going to meet Roth. Going to set things not just to how they were, but to something on a whole new level. His mind seems to want to fight him, one part telling him to just go, the other speaking of his father and Evie.

…but he forces it down, because Roth was right; this wasn't a need, it was a want, which now seemed so much stronger than before. He didn't need to work with Roth. He wanted to. He didn't need to be with him. He wanted to.

His feet move him without his permission. He feels like he isn't even in control of his own body anymore. He reaches the door, grabs the handle, and turns it, stepping in the room to meet Roth, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the far wall obviously expecting him.

"Jacob," Roth says.

* * *

"Evie, no!" Henry hisses, grabbing the girl by the shoulders before she can follow her brother up the stairs. Her eyes widen as he turns her around, before narrowing sharply, fury engulfing her.

"What do you mean, no?!" she hisses back. "Jacob is…!"

"Please, Evie," Henry says, voice desperate. "Don't get involved."

"So they were working together…" she chokes through gritted teeth. "And what of this 'dear' and 'darling?' What is even going on?!"

Henry looks away, closing his eyes. "That is between Jacob and Roth."

She watches the way he avoids her stare, putting the pieces together. The gifts and flowers…the fight with Roth…

" _I can't lose him now, dammit!"_

"They're in love?" Evie breathes out, her mind spinning in a different million ways. Jacob…wouldn't…would he?

…but he would, she suddenly thinks. It was right in his character.

"Evie, listen to me," Henry grabs her shoulders again. "Leave this to them. This is Jacob's decision. Don't-…"

"Like hell!" she exclaims suddenly. "He lied to me! He didn't tell me!" Her voice was rising. "I told him not to meet with him! I told him to stay away from Roth! He's the leader of the Blighters, for God's sake!"

"Evie!" Henry stops her, his voice hardening as he grabs her and pulls her away from earshot. "We're leaving, now!"

"You knew about this…" she stares at him dejectedly. Her eyes were glazed, hurt and anger showing through them like windows. "You didn't…"

"Evie…" Henry tries, but she pulls away from him, glaring at him coldly. She doesn't even say a word, just turns and leaves, back off the stage and through the crowd.

He watches her go, not knowing what else to do.

* * *

Time just stopped.

It seemed since he left the train, that time had just sped up, like a train with no brakes, until now where it was crashing to a halt. The air was calm as if after a storm, or maybe before a new one. He wasn't sure, really. He's learned since meeting Roth, that he really never knew what to do anymore.

…but wasn't that the life he's always wanted? Living on the edge of not knowing but determined to get as far as he could? To live free with no regrets and doubts and just go with it?

He didn't answer Roth. He wasn't sure how to. Music was heard from down below, the third act over and people now dancing and eating. The music was soothing and seemed to ground him, keeping him from losing what little sanity he had left since that day at the warehouse.

Roth uncrossed his arms, his head tilting to one side as if to study him. He stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of Jacob Frye in what seemed to be forever. The Assassin was wearing the outfit he received from him the first time he slept over, drunk. The mask he wore matched it perfectly; the black with silver reflecting off of him in the dim lighting making him look like a fetching rook. His rook.

"Why?" was Jacob's strained voice, finally after fighting himself. It seemed like it took everything within his power to ask.

"Why not?" was Roth's casual answer, as if he had expected what the other would ask. "It's like you said yourself: some things, are worth more than freedom."

Jacob stares blankly at him, recognizing the look Roth was giving him, as the same one he was given before he ran away.

After their kiss.

"And what now?" he asks, clenching his hands into tight fists, nervous for whatever the man's response may be.

Roth's moustache twitches as his lips pull up in a small smirk on one side, the Blighter leader leaning away from the window behind him to take a step forward. "That all depends on you, my dear. What do you want?"

"I…" Jacob starts quietly, as Roth continues to walk slowly up to him. "I want you to promise," he barely chokes out, as the other steps up directly to him, only a foot away from him now.

"Promise what?" Maxwell says, sliding up even closer, one hand reaching for Jacob's face.

The Assassin swallows nervously, not taking his eyes off Roth as the man's hand reached for the edge of his mask. "Promise, to never try to, or harm an innocent again."

"Hmm," Roth hummed quietly, knocking Jacob's hat off with his other hand; the article falling to the floor with a soft thump. His other hand is still determined to take that mask off his face.

"You have to promise," Jacob could barely get his voice to say, hoping Roth didn't notice the shakiness nor the fact that it was nearly a whisper.

"What will happen then if I do not?" Roth asks, finally getting that mask off to throw it somewhere behind him. Jacob's face was a light red, sweat on his brow and eyes uncertain. Dashing as ever. "Will you kill me?"

"Yes," he responded faster than he felt he should. No hesitation was there at all. This was either going to go one of two ways. There was no room for grey space.

"And…" Roth takes the last step forward, closing the minimal space between them to wrap an arm around the Assassin's waist, pulling his body against his own, his other hand grabbing for Jacob's left and intertwining their fingers. "What will happen," he asks, pulling in to murmur in his ear, his breath tickling the hairs on his neck. "…if I promise?"

He can't  _breathe_. This…was almost too much. Roth wasn't just asking what would happen, he was telling him  _what would happen._ From one extreme to the other was how this was going to go. There was hardly a choice in the matter at all. Hell, it might be easier  _to_  just kill him, Jacob thought to himself. It wasn't like either the sin was bigger than the other…

…but Roth was warm, and soft, and dangerous. Cunning, smart, devilish, and fun. He was everything Jacob could ask for. He was the way Jacob wanted to live. He thrilled on danger and excitement, and not knowing what could happen. He thrived on it, and to have the opportunity present itself for possibly what could be the only time in his life, suddenly the price seemed so little.

Roth's hand moved from his own and slid down his wrist, stepping forward so Jacob stepped backwards. "Jacob, darling," Roth purred in his ear, stepping him back again. "I would do anything for you, you know," he says, backing him up until he hit the wall by the door, closing it as he pressed up against him. "Haven't I already proved that?"

He presses his lips down on his neck, causing him to flinch and suck in his breath, turning his head away. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth, his heart hammering in his chest as he felt a knee slide in between his legs, spreading them carefully apart. Roth had him pinned against the wall, his trail of kisses leading up his neck, his teeth nipping at his jawline.

"No more fun and games, darling," Roth whispers in his ear. "I'll be serious for you, this once."

Jacob had a feeling the man wasn't talking about the promise anymore, but something else. With a shaky breath, the Assassin asks; "And what?"

Roth grins, moving his hand that wrapped around Jacob's waist back around him to his chest, sliding underneath his jacket and feeling the tense muscles underneath. "To keep you, I promise, to never go against your wishes, Jacob. Anything you say…and if I break that promise…" he turned his head, meeting Jacob's hazel eyes with a smirk. The hand holding the Assassin's wrist pulls his arm over, so Jacob's hidden blade was resting against his throat. Jacob's eyes widen, the reality of the situation hitting him full force. "…as I said before…" Roth continues, voice low. "…you can just charge into this theatre, and kill me yourself."

All it would take, was a flick of the wrist, and Roth would be dead.

The man seemed to be waiting; giving Jacob this one chance to literally cut the ties between them.

He couldn't do it.

With a huff he yanks his arm away, fighting the other as Roth attempted to grab his wrist again. This time, he manages to grab the Blighter's arm first, pulling it down and away from him. "Roth, I—!" he starts, trying to step forward, before the man slams him back against the wall, and smashes their lips together.

He wasn't sure what took over him then. Maybe it was the burning tension that had been sitting on them since they first met, or maybe it was just him tired of dancing around everything. Whatever it was, all he could think was ' _fuck it,_ ' and kissed Roth back.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I had written out Chapter Ten and was like, this is okay. Then I thought it was too short, so I added Chapter Eleven to it. Then I was like, no, this is too much in one chapter, so I ended it where it is now. Sorry for the late update, anyway.
> 
> -Anonymoux


	12. Chapter Eleven - This Is It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap:
> 
> Jacob goes to the Alhambra to make his decision on whether or not to forgive Roth for almost killing a bunch of kids. Evie follows, and despite Henry's attempts to prevent it from happening, discovers that Jacob has been working with Roth this whole time. She and Henry fight, while Jacob follows Roth to his bedroom where Roth presents the opportunity to Jacob to either kill him, or forgive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry guys. We're even almost done with this story, too. I've been putting my focus on one story at a time, now, but I decided that I need to get this one over with already. Chapter Twelve is going to be long as all hell, but then Thirteen is the last one, plus an Epilogue that'll get posted at the same time, so we're almost there.

**Chapter Eleven – This Is It**

His hidden blade was the first to come off, and soon after then his jacket. Roth's hands worked fast and swiftly, guiding him over to the bed in the middle of the room while stripping his clothing piece by piece, until the Assassin was wearing nothing left but his shirt and breaches. Lips were locked in a battle of dominance, but Jacob was barely trying. His mind was a cloud as he felt hands slide up and down his body, up his neck, through his hair, down his back, over his rump, squeezing possessively, before those hands worked up to his hips.

He was warm all over, his face the hottest as he tried to ignore the screaming thoughts in the back of his head to stop, but it was already started. Teeth scraped and tongues danced needingly, before Roth bit at the Assassin's lip and caused it to bleed.

With his back on the bed, Roth was over him, kissing away the blood on his lips and beginning to trail down his jawline, over stubble as he licks and nips at his neck, growling when the Assassin beneath him lets out a pleasured groan.

He should  _not_ be enjoying this,  _not_ letting this happen, but…he  _wanted_  this,  _wanted_  this to happen. Roth is unbuttoning the twin's shirt, trailing kisses over his exposed chest, running his hands over taunt muscles and nearly purring when he hears Jacob take in a shuddered gasp when his finds his nipple. He swirls his tongue around and bites the tender nub, making Jacob arch slightly in his hold and stammer out the man's name. His mouth trails back up, nipping at Jacob's neck, while his hands begin to undo the Rook's pants.

The feel of Roth's warm hands sliding down his thighs as he pulled down his pants, exposing the skin underneath, sent a pleasurable throb to his lower stomach that made him groan. He puts an arm over his eyes, unable to handle what was happening, fear of losing his sanity if he looked too long.

Grabbing his hand away from his face, Roth leans back over him and kisses the Assassin's nose, before pressing another kiss to his cheek, then his temple. "Don't hide from me, darling," his voice rumbled quietly in the Rook's ear, before he took his earlobe between his teeth and began biting down his neck.

"A-Ahh…" Jacob's face flushed and he turned his head to the side, cursing himself for losing control of himself so easily. Roth was just too good, this was just too much…

Evie would kill him…his father would never forgive him…

"Stop thinking so much…" the Blighter leader murmured, grabbing the Assassin's hips. "Just  _feel."_

He thrusted against the younger male beneath him, causing the boy to cry out hoarsely in both shock and surprise. A husky chuckle leaves Roth before he does it again; Jacob swooning from the pleasure, now fully hard, gasping and whimpering with each thrust against him. He does it again, and then again, until Jacob is a shivering mess in his arms, precum dripping from his tip, and before Roth can rock him again, the Assassin growls and reaches up, grabbing Roth by the collar and bringing him down to smash their lips together.

The sudden eagerness from Jacob was certainly surprising but most welcome, Roth meeting his kiss and letting the younger's tongue fall into his mouth. He thrust into him again as their tongues wrestled, the dominance in Jacob finally surfacing, a lot sooner than Roth had expected. The Assassin reaches for the buttons on the others jacket, fumbling as he tried to pull it open and snapping a button off in the process. Finally the Blighter aids him in taking the damned thing off, throwing it to the floor somewhere behind him, and then Jacob wants the man's shirt off and starts fighting that, too.

Roth chuckles between their kiss, swatting the Assassin's hands away and reaching underneath him to lift him further on the bed. He spreads the others legs as he climbs up in between them, lifting a hand to Jacob's face and pressing a kiss on his forehead. He teases open the Rook's mouth with his index and middle fingers, Jacob obliging without a problem and taking them into his mouth. He runs his tongue around them and Roth wonders if this really was Jacob's first time, before leaning down once again into his neck and biting roughly, his other hand reaching for the Rook's member in between them and squeezing hard.

"R-Roth!" Jacob gasps out, fingers still in his mouth. His hips buck to the touch and hold the man now had on him, his body practically begging for more.

"What have I told you about names, darling?" Roth asks deviously, grinning at the beauty of Jacob unfolding beneath him. The Assassin had sweat matting his hair and beading on his forehead, his face flushed red in both embarrassment and pleasure. He squeezes his hand harder and thrusts it, causing Jacob to curse and groan loudly, before whimpering as the Blighter pulled his fingers away.

Leaning down to kiss him again, he lets Jacob take control of their mouths, while spreading the Rook's legs further apart. Jacob doesn't seem to notice at first, but once a finger is slowly sliding in he gasps and hisses, his eyes widening and glazed over, mouth falling open in shock.

"Relax, darling," Roth says quietly, pressing kisses over the Assassin's cheek, pushing his finger slowly through that tight muscle, making Jacob squirm and grit his teeth. The feeling was both painful and uncomfortable to him, but there was a hint of pleasure there that made him sit through it. Then that finger brushes up against something, and that pleasure intensified and Jacob let out a soft cry.

With that the Blighter inserts the second finger, watching Jacob wince and shudder beneath him with absolute wonder. This, was what he's been waiting for, ever since first setting eyes on the man that entered his Alhambra, so easy to kill and so easy to be killed by. A part of him would regret not having that tension between them anymore; the risk of being murdered when either of them turned their backs, but now Jacob was his and only his, and that was a trophy beyond anything he could ever ask for.

He scissors his fingers and Jacob whimpers, his fingers digging in the sheets beneath him and his breath coming out in short pants through his gritted teeth. As wrong as it felt, he couldn't deny he enjoyed it. Something about being overpowered by Roth was enough to get him to ignore the little thoughts in the back of his head that he shouldn't. He never realized that a third finger had joined in until yet again those fingers brushed up against something hot, and a wave of ecstasy flowed through him and straight to his arousal. "M-Max…"

"There we go," Roth grins, thrusting his fingers up hard, watching Jacob arch and cry out, gasping as pleasure wreaked his body. Another thrust had him moaning; squeezing his eyes shut tight and bracing for the next one, which came seconds after, Roth moving faster now relentlessly, curling his fingers causing him to lose it.

" _M-Max!"_ Jacob cries out, gasping and bucking his hips down into the thrusts. It wasn't enough, now. He needed more.

The sound of Jacob calling out his name was enough to send shivers down his back and cause him to growl possessively. He pulls his fingers from the squirming Rook and works his own pants open, leaning over to press butterfly kisses along Jacob's chest, nipping at his collarbone.

"Maxwell," Jacob breathes out, and the man responds by climbing over him, sliding his knees under the younger's legs and elevating his hips to line up carefully. The Rook leader seems startled, realizing at that moment just how far this was going, how real this was, and there's a look akin to fear in his eyes, but Roth leans down and kisses it away, locking their lips for a moment, before pulling back and resting their foreheads together.

"Ready, darling?" he asks, voice husky. Jacob's heart is pounding feverishly, not sure if he could answer. This was wrong, but he wanted it, but…

What was it going to hurt? This was his decision, not his father's, not Evie's, not any cop or law in the world. This was what he wanted. Why not just go through with it?

He nods, reaching up to pull the other back down to mesh their lips together again. Roth accepts the invitation and thrusts forward, Jacob's startled shout muffled into their mouths.

* * *

"What are you two doing here?!" Evie exclaims, and Ned and Freddy both curse under their breaths. By the look on Evie's face, and the way Henry was chasing her out of the building, they could tell she had discovered what they were trying to hide. "Oh," she continues, glaring darkly at them, "you knew, didn't you?"

"Evie!" Henry pants, caught up. "Evie let it be!"

"Let it be!" she exclaims, throwing her arms up in the air. A few bystanders near them gave her odd looks before continuing on their way. "I'm supposed to just accept the fact that everyone has been hiding this from me?"

"Yes, you are," Ned speaks up, pushing Henry aside to meet Evie's angry stare. "Deal with it, Evie. There was obviously a reason why we didn't tell you, and with the way you're acting you're only proving our points right."

She stares back, teeth grit in anger and betrayal, before she turns abruptly on her boots and marches away without another word.

The three friends exchange looks, hoping she simmered down before she saw Jacob again.

* * *

"When I was younger, I fell in love with a boy," Jacob explains, voice soft. "I would sneak out of my father's house at inane times and go to visit with him." His head was resting on Roth's chest as the man ran his fingers through his hair. "We talked about running away together. We both hated our fathers and knew that they would never accept us. Then, one day, Evie followed me. Always the better one at stealth. She saw me with him," he takes in a deep breath, letting out a shaky sigh. "She didn't understand and was angry with me. She ran home to tell father and at that point I knew all hell was going to break loose. He and I decided to sneak to our homes, grab our belongings and then run to the train station. Sadly when I got home, my father had known what I would try to do and caught me. We fought...it was terrible...and then I ran.

"The boy wasn't at the meeting spot and after waiting so long I realized it was all for nothing. That it was all a lie and that he never really loved me. I ran into the nearest town and just went wherever my feet took me. George found me and took me in, and I stayed with him.

"Evie stayed with father and we never really grew up together. It wasn't until we were both eighteen that we learned our father was dying. A year later I worked up the courage to go visit him. He...apologized to me. Told me he loved me. I didn't believe him. Still don't. I told him I hated him… He died that night.

"George had Evie and I work together the past two years, wanting us to be siblings again. We haven't spoken about what had happened and I don't think she ever will."

Roth is quiet, listening to everything Jacob admitted to him, leaning forward to press a kiss onto the younger's head. "What will you do now?" he asks softly, and Jacob shrugs.

"Kill Starrick. Free London. After he's gone, I suppose I want to keep growing the Rooks. Keep cleaning this city up and protecting it from Templars. If Evie decides to leave, then that's on her. We weren't ever really close, anyway." His voice is a mumble, and Roth can tell he's unsure of his own words.

"Time will only tell then," the Blighter yawns. "As for Starrick, he plans on hoisting an attack on the palace tomorrow. That's when we will strike."

Jacob frowns. "What's his plan?"

"The vault for the Shroud is located under the palace. He's going to disguise his men as royal guards and set them up around the perimeter. He's going to be a guest at the ball, and once everything is in place, he's going to have his men assassinate everyone at the ball, including the Queen. That's when he will go for the Shroud."

The Assassin's eyes narrow. "So first thing is taking out his men around the palace."

Roth nods. "It shouldn't be a problem for you to sneak in, should it?"

The Frye twin smirks. "Of course not."

"Cocky as ever," Roth grins. "I can distract Starrick while you're running amok. I will be there as a guest as well."

"A plan that's short and sweet," Jacob chuckles. "Better than anything Evie would have come up with."

"We're going to do this together, darling," Roth says sincerely, dragging his thumb across the Assassin's face. "A murderous duet."

Jacob smiles, closing his eyes. "You know I don't dance."

"Don't lie, Jacob, it doesn't suit you."

* * *

Roth points at the map he had drawn out, a bigger version of the plans Starrick had given him so he can go over it with his Blighters. Now he was showing it to Jacob, so they could be prepared for what was to come.

"I will have my loyal men spread throughout the palace as well," he was saying, Jacob listening intently while leaning against the nearby table, arms crossed over his chest, "and they will know what to do when the time comes. Starrick will have his Templars scattered amok, and these will be their locations," he points, and Jacob memorizes their spots. "I'm going to have most of my men near the vault, that way once Starrick enters he will be trapped inside. He will most likely make a break for it once he realizes most of his men are dead."

"Sounds good," Jacob smirks. "I can't wait to see the look on his face when he knows he's lost."

"You and I, darling, you and I," Roth grins, turning to grab the whiskey off a nearby shelf and pour two glasses. "It'll be quite the reward."

"Jacob."

Both gang leaders turn quickly to the sound of Evie's voice.

She was standing there, eyes narrowed, looking as if she hadn't slept all night.

Jacob was pretty sure his heart stopped.

"Evie," he says, fully turning to face her. "What are you doing here?"

Roth scowled, knowing this was going to be bad.

The older of the Frye twins steps up to her brother, the two meeting eye to eye, glaring at each other. "This, is where you've been all this time. This, is what you've been running off to since we arrived here in London. This, is what you've been hiding from me…" she says, her voice strained. She almost sounded choked.

Jacob's eyes narrow and he immediately puts up a defensive. "So what? What does it matter, Evie? You wanted to do your own thing and I had my own, so what's the big deal?"

Her tone lowers considerably. "I've seen your handiwork around London. Do you have any idea what it is you've been doing?"

"I've been killing off Starrick's henchmen," he sneers back. "What have you been doing?"

"I've been repairing your mistakes!" she takes a step forward. "'Too much haste is too little speed.'"

That seems to snap a thread for Jacob, and his voice lowers to almost a growl. "Don't you quote father at me."

"That's Plato, and I am sorry this doesn't involve anything you can destroy," she says, voice raising. "You've been tearing this city up far more than the Templars have at this point, sneaking away to work with someone who is just as trustworthy as Starrick, betraying not only the Creed but your family as well!" She's yelling at this point, face red in anger. "Father was right, he never approved of your methods-!"

"Father is dead!" Jacob screams over her, shutting her up instantly.

The two stare each other down, both hurt and anger flaring in their eyes, and then Jacob is being pushed back, and Roth is shoving the copy of the plans in Evie's hands.

"Get out," he says, oddly calm. "I told you to never come back here."

She glares at the man that stole her brother from her, wanting to say something. Wanting to argue. Wanting to fight. She glances over and sees the hurt in Jacob's eyes, and then decides she needs to leave.

She turns without another word, plans clenched in her hands, and storms out of the Alhambra.

* * *

"Evie."

The girl ignores him, gathering up all her weapons into a neat pile on the bed and double checking that she had everything.

"Evie," Henry says louder this time, stepping up to her. She turns and glares at him, and he glares back, albeit softer. "I understand you're upset, but we need to work together on this if we're going to succeed. We can't afford to let this get in the way of stopping Starrick."

' _Do not let personal feelings compromise the mission.'_

She turns her head, closing her eyes. He was right, she couldn't let herself go out of control just because of...whatever was going on.

"Fine," she says with a huff, turning from him. "What are we going to do?"

Glad that she was cooperating, Henry gives a small smile. "Starrick plans on eliminating all heads of church and state, then taking the Shroud. There will be men set up all around the palace, with no easy way to get in and to the vault without being seen. We will need invitations to get in."

She frowns, looking at him with a raised brow. "How will we get the invitations?"

"I'm already on it," the Assassin answers confidently. "Turns out Jacob is good friends with the Disraelis. I'm going to set up a meeting with us to see if they will let us take their invitations, or if they know how we can get some."

Evie frowns but doesn't comment on it. How on Earth did Jacob manage to befriend the Disraelis? She shakes it from her head instantly. Only God knew what and how Jacob did anymore…

"Very well," she huffs. "I suppose I should find attire for the ball, then. How will we get weapons in?"

"I was going to speak with Abberline and see what he could do for us," Henry offers. "Find us something to wear and map out where we need to go and what we're going to do once inside the ball."

She nods, looking away. "Very well. We have six hours before the ball. Time is of the essence."

* * *

Abberline sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "I suppose if you were to get me a uniform, I could be of assistance."

Henry nods. "Then that's what I'll do."

"Henry?"

The two turn to Jacob slowly approaching them both, a frown on his face as he looked between both friends cautiously. The Assassin looked hesitant, like a deer ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

"Jacob," Henry reaches for him, gently grabbing his arm and pulling him into a hug. Jacob blinks in surprise, confused by the normally distant Assassin's actions, pulling away with many questions on his mind. Henry gives him a concerned look. "Are you alright? I tried to reason with Evie, but…"

Jacob holds up a hand, looking away with a slight tinge of pink to his face, interrupting him before he could go on. "I'm fine, and not worried about it right now."

Henry looks over at Abberline, who walks up to Jacob, curious. "And you trust Roth? Wholeheartedly?"

"With my life," Jacob answers faster than they expected, a determined glint in his eyes. "He's already proven he can be trusted. He's going to help stop Starrick at the ball tonight."

Again Abberline and Green exchange looks, but the latter of the two nods and gives the Assassin a small smile. "That's good. Strength in numbers."

Jacob seems surprised by his response, nodding slowly. "I suppose so. You needed me for something?"

"Yes," Henry motions for them to move off the sidewalk into an area a bit less crowded. "I need to speak with the Disraeli's, and heard you have good contact with them?"

Freddy looks taken aback by this, as Jacob shrugs. "I do. What do you need them for?"

"To acquire invitations for the ball. That is how Evie and I will get in," Henry explains. The Frye twin only frowns.

"How will you get your weapons in?"

"If someone could get me a disguise," Freddy speaks up, "I'll take care of that."

Both Assassin and detective frown almost shly at each other. Last time they saw each other they had been yelling and angry with one another.

Henry interrupts the awkward silence, tapping Jacob on the shoulder. "Would you mind helping me with that?"

The Assassin shrugs, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. "I have nothing better to do right now. I'm in."

"We'll meet back here then," Henry smiles, looking to Abberline. "We'll acquire your attire and a carriage and drop them off here, and discuss the final plan for tonight."

* * *

Jacob tossed his hat on the table, letting out an almost tired sigh. So much has happened within such a short amount of time, and now tonight was it. They would finally put an end to Starrick, or die by his hands. He certainly hoped it didn't come to that…

"Jacob!"

He looks up and smiles as Roth steps in, fastening up his tie and holding his arms out with a grin. He pulls Jacob into a hug, not caring that he was covered in blood and dirt scrapes from his runs with Henry today, and pulls away to admire the Assassin as always. He notices the fatigue in his eyes, and his smile falters slightly. "You seem tired, darling."

Jacob shrugs, looking away. "I'm alright. I'll feel better once this is all over."

His chin his grabbed as he's forced to meet Roth's eyes, the Blighter smirking warmly at him. "You and I both, my dear. The moment we've been waiting for."

"To finally put an end to Starrick," Jacob gives a small smirk back. "Almost makes this feel like the end to something."

"The start of something new," Roth says quietly, leaning forward and connecting their lips, and Jacob melts immediately, closing his eyes and leaning into the older man without a care to the world.

It makes him realize how much he's wanted this. How much he's truly craved this. Maybe he knew it all along and just forced himself to be oblivious to it.

The Blighter runs his tongue across Jacob's lower lip, and the Assassin parts them as if on instinct, as if it were just natural to do so, as if he just belonged to the man holding him. That tongue like a snake, felt along his, caressed the inside of his mouth and made him moan into the other's. His face felt hot and his heart pounded relentlessly inside his chest, and the moment that moan left him Roth forced him back against the table, pushing him up on it and knocking things off the surface so he can lay Jacob back on it. He leaned over him as he turned his head and deepened the kiss, pinning the Rook there and standing in between his legs. He let his hands feel up under Jacob's shirt, playing with chest hair and then his left nipple, making him shudder and gasp out Roth's name in a smothered whisper. He grinds their hips together, making the Assassin practically keen and moan out again, before he broke their kiss and grinned down at the panting, pink-faced boy beneath him.

"As much as I'd love to ravage you right here right now, darling, I have to get going," Roth murmurs, running his other hand across the Assassin's cheek. "I'll make sure to pick up right here after we're finished with Starrick, however."

Jacob's flush deepened, but he nodded and attempted to smirk through it. "I like that plan…"

Roth chuckles and leans down for a final kiss, before standing back up straight and fixing up his suit one last time. Jacob sits up and watches him, smiling at how nice the man looked.

"I'll be sure to have a gate left unlocked for you in the back, darling," the thespian states, his grin never fading. "I'll have two men posted by it to wave you through."

Fixing his own self up, Jacob nods. "I'll meet you by the vault then, after I take out the guards?"

"Wait for my signal," Roth agrees. "Do be careful, my dear. I don't plan on losing you again anytime soon."

Jacob smiles as the man leans down for a quick kiss, feeling almost giddy. "I'm touched," he jokes.

"You will be once this is through," Roth winks, before turning and calling for Lewis.

Jacob watches him go, before he takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes.

This was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My motivation has been shit lately and it took a lot for me to push this chapter out. After enough nagging from a friend, I finally got it out. It was painful to do so, so I hope it was worth it. Again, I'm sorry for such the late update.
> 
> Evie will be given more in the next chapter. There's a reason for her outburst and the way she handled this. See you next update.


End file.
